


Shivers

by KaoriTamashiro



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaoriTamashiro/pseuds/KaoriTamashiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be the chill of death as it comes in the form of flames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Malleable

**Author's Note:**

> Not enough Ayato x reader floating around, especially the fun stuff, so I made one of my own;)

"I don't have time to argue with you" Ayato snapped irritated.

Your fingers gripped his knees tightly, your head too close to his navel.

"Just come back later then!" you snapped back angrily.

You were so flustered, your hands shook as they tightened their grip on his knees. Your knuckles turned white, breath coming in harsh gasps. His hand fisted in your hair, drawing it up close to his head.

"Do it" he hissed.

He released your head, letting you slump back down. You stared at the form in front of you, feeling embarrassed. Where was your dignity? Your drive, will, the fight that keeps you alive?  
You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, letting out a harsh breath. Leaning forward you parted your lips, feeling the foreign object enter your mouth. Ayato let out a harsh, guttural growl, before pushing your head down. You sucked air up sharply through your nose, trying to relax your throat.

Your lips tingled, the fuzz of hair growing from the skin rubbing against them. Your throat threatened to tighten up, activating your gag reflex. You knew Ayato would only get angry if you allowed yourself to choke. You wanted to speak, but couldn't get the words out.  
Ayato's fierce grip wavered as his breathing came harshly. What were you supposed to do? You responded the only way you knew how, by sucking on the long shaft creeping down your throat. His hand fisted in your hair, but if anything, his pressure released.

You tilted your head around, the strange sensation of something wet and smooth rubbing your throat tickling you. You fought the urge to cough, trying to not drool onto his pants. Slowly you opened your eyes, the dim lighting from the window in the other room having decreased. It was getting nighttime. You knew Ayato would want to be finished soon.  
You fought down the whine creeping up your throat as your body protested the stiff form you were forced to maintain. Your head proceeded to move, but your jaw was getting stiff. Ayato pushed down on your head, surprising you. He was gasping at this point, grip weak but demanding.

You tried to pull your head back, earning a feral growl at your display of defiance. He ignored your wishes, and pushed your mouth back down onto him. You gagged at that point, eliciting a strangled whimper from him. You blushed in surprise, your face already unbearably hot. Ayato tended to never display his erotic pleasures when he forced you down.  
His breathing was louder, more noticeable, making a strange feeling come over you. Your own breathing was heavier, cheeks burning nonetheless. Your body almost seemed to be responding to his pleasure. Your mind soured at that prospect of course. Ayato got off on your own shame and sacrifice of dignity.

It was hard to maneuver your mouth around his shaft without nicking him with your teeth. You were sure that would earn a hit to the face. Slowly, you attempted to push him farther into your mouth. Grimacing, you moved your head back.  
Ayato shoved your head down forcefully. You choked, and he responded with his own strangled gasp. Noticing the change in pattern, you sucked harder, moving your head gently. Ayato coughed out his breath, struggling to hold his displays of pleasure inside.

Moving your head about pulled slightly at his shaft, swirling it in your mouth. Your position and Ayato's gasps flustered you, most of the heat going between your legs. Fighting it was a struggle between releasing Ayato altogether and being quiet.  
Ayato sputtered on a breath, your movement catching him off guard. He groaned then, surprising both of you. You stopped moving, unsure of what to do.

"Did.. I say to.. stop?!" Ayato panted angrily.

Now that you had stopped it was even harder to start again. Ayato crammed himself back in your throat, gagging you once more. He repeated the gesture, making your stomach nauseous from the twisting caused by your gagging.  
Ayato was relentless, despite your efforts to abate him by pushing up on his legs. You sucked deep breaths through your nose, no choice but to try and relax as he pounded into your throat. Your jaw cramped, trying to close around the wet organ.

You gagged again as something warmer than your own saliva began mixing in your mouth. Ayato's hips bumped into your face, his breathing becoming erratic, almost like quiet moans with every gasp. The liquid dripped down your throat with your saliva, causing you to whimper.  
Ayato let out a gasp right behind your own noises, before succumbing to the air he frantically packed into his chest. He groaned, fisting your hair tighter. His defenseless moans followed by his harsh thrusting caused your own whimpers.

The wash of solution in your mouth only increased, not all of it sliding down your throat. Your whimpers grew louder, trying to move your head off his shaft. His harsh grip kept your head in place, even though liquid began dripping off your lips. He left you with an ultimatum, swallow it or drip it on his pants.

Squeezing your eyes shut tighter, you found you couldn't swallow without the threat of rejecting him completely. More liquid dribbled from your lips, followed with your whines. Ayato's breathing had evened out somewhere along the way, and his hand released your hair.  
Slowly, you picked your head up, releasing the tension in your neck. A trail of saliva connected your lips to the head of his shaft. You pursed your lips, unsure of what to do next. You fought the idea of licking your lips, but the solution coating your mouth proved an issue as well.

"You made a mess" Ayato noted, a hint of something in his voice.

You looked down where there was a small wet patch the size of a dollar coin on his pants. You didn't respond, your tongue feeling thick in the mixture that wasn't entirely yours. Your lips had dried fairly quickly, jaw tired from being stretched so far.

"Answer me" he demanded, this time anger evident in his voice.

"So-" you tried to speak.

It was as if the solution in your mouth was like a glue, stretching with your jaw. It hung like strings as you tried to speak, but became too mortified. Your eyes widened, Ayato and you sharing the same look of shock and surprise. He broke out into peals of laughter as your face burned hotly.

"Interesting" he replied, giving you an indiscernible look.

His hand shot out, cupping your chin and bringing you close to his face.

"We should do this more often."

His jeer at you only served to flare your indignation. You felt as if you had no pride, no dignity. Ayato pressed a hard kiss to your lips before standing up. He discarded his pants and briefs, walking to the bathroom without clothing from his torso down. You averted your eyes even though you knew what exactly was all there. Ayato left the bathroom, grabbing pants from the floor, mysteriously wearing briefs once more. You never moved from your position on your knees on the floor. Patient in waiting for him to leave, you stared at the bed sheets in front of you.

His footsteps on the hard wood floor sounded behind you were he stood. Your gaze never wavered from the bed. Finally he walked past you, disappearing from the room. It was only a few moments after that he left the entire apartment. After a few beats, you picked yourself up, pausing at the bathroom threshold. Backing away from the bathroom, left with only the moonlight through the doorway, you let your tears overwhelm you.


	2. Tease

If there were one word to describe Ayato, it would be tease.

He deliberately chose to spend no more than an hour with you, not even a fraction of his time. It was in that small time-frame he became true to his name. As time slipped through your fingers, it became all too present that his reach extended farther and farther. Ayato's visits somehow reminded you of the doctrine that there would never be any escape. Struggles always cost you dearly at the hands of Ayato.

"Where do you think you're going?"

With a voice like flint and ice, he sent sparks of frost down your spine. This raw sensation of fear was the exact reason why you had run, but it was to no avail.

"A-Ayato" you tried to plead, knowing his wrath could only be abated, not avoided.

Those eyes like polished obsidian glimmered with a cooled look of anger. Red irises bled into your brain, reminding you exactly who had claimed you.

"Trying to leave?"

His voice was quieter this time, deliberate, slow steps coming towards you. Frantically, your eyes fell downcast, roaming about your surroundings. Ayato was a born predator, and when you made the mistake of looking back to him, your eyes couldn't leave his own.

"No, I-"

"You wouldn't lie would you?"

His breath tickled the fine hairs on your ear, his presence right before you. In that moment you could have broken into tears, but your body failed you. You didn't move, even when his strong grip encased your arm, you didn't move. You cried out as your shoulder let out a popping noise, your back meeting stone bark. Blinking the white spots out of your vision, trying to find out what came over you. You were just cold. It was cold outside, the fall wind blowing across your bare skin.

"What are you doing?!"

Your voice cried out, hands grabbing at his own. His hands were cold, and you were afraid. Afraid of the possibility that came with him undressing you, afraid of your own shame and weakness. He growled in the back of his throat gripping your wrist tightly.

"Let go" he told you.

"Ayato, let go of me" you responded angrily.

Your voice cracked on a breathless scream of pain. His harsh grip had cracked the bones in your wrist, enabling them useless. Harsh shards of pain, burned up your arm, causing aches in your shoulder. You could only gasp for air, try and breathe past this barricade of disbelief.

"You tried to leave didn't you?"

His voice was low, eyes hidden by the fringe of hair hanging past his forehead. You didn't answer, breathing heavily. Ayato's cold fingers skimmed the hem of your pants, trailing along the zipper. The oxygen in your lungs froze, lungs failing to pump it out.

"Please don't, what are you doing, stop" you pleaded quietly.

You whimpered as he unbuttoned your pants, pulling them down, and exposing your hips to the cold air.

"Are you afraid?" he asked quietly.

Buzzing sounded in your ears, drowning your thoughts in numb fear. Afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of him? Afraid of his actions? Afraid of dying? You only let out a whimper, arms loose at your sides, when the sound of his own pants unzipping sounded. Right here, in the forest not too far from the city of the 4th ward, was where you stood. Your back pressed against an unforgiving tree which pinned you to your death. In this spot your resistance dissipated into the air, cold arms circling around your navel.

"You should be" he whispered.

Your eyes blinked against the rough callous dry feeling that had overcome them with your wash of emotions. Why were you still here? Why didn't you fight? He was a poison and you continued to drink every drop.  
Teasing unrelentingly, pushing you around until you were a mess of frustration. His possessive nature wrought only physical pain, emotional burns. Only Ayato could have you torn up in conflict, but still wanting his embrace.

Your head turned slightly, staring at the dark mop of hair. He faced away from you, sleeping out his exhaustion. Both of your naked forms lay near each other without actually touching the other. Ayato wasn't a fan of close contact, and you preferred to wallow in your defilement in solitude.

Even though there was a long scar across you from his endless torment, something about the way he always ended up whispering your name into your own skin kept you rooted at the crossroads. Fighting him to the death was a suicide, but something told you he wouldn't kill you. No, you would have a few broken bones, and he would have his carnal pleasure.

Your eyes mapped across the plane of his back, watching the way his muscles contracted with his deep breathing. He was vulnerable right now, but even in this prone form, you would never think to attack. Your hate, distaste, nor disgust was not near as deeply rooted to provoke such actions.

You let out a defeated sigh, slinging an arm across the slim hips of his, fanning your fingers across his stomach. His body tensed, muscles moving under his skin. Your own skin tingled in excitement, the feeling of such terse muscles dominating you was an exciting prospect.

Ayato's breathing had turned from deep to shallow, indicating that your touch had woke him up. You ignored the signs, only tightening your grip slightly, hugging him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how long I am going to be doing this although I have quite a few chapters in store....


	3. Desolate

He never looked you in the face. Never directly eye to eye as he shoved your body into the cold wall. You could feel his cold fingers bringing you pants down, not even interested in the rest of you.

It was always like this. Ayato would come in silently, interrupt whatever you could be doing with force, as if it was a routine. As if you were a routine. He was interested in whatever he could garner for his own carnal pleasure. As long as you stayed quiet and let him ravage you, there wasn't a problem for him.

It never ended for you. He always proceeded at his own pace, never preparing you for anything. His first thrusts into you always hurt. The feeling of stretching and contracting taut ridged skin completely dry burned deep into you. Although eventually his rough treatment scratched out irrational tendencies in you as a reflex or barrier of some sort.

Ayato wanted his release fast, quickly. This wasn't being fucked into a wall, drowning into pleasure. It also damn well was not a reciprocation of love. It was sex, plain and simple, something animals indulged in. Of course, by the time you got around to enjoying yourself thoroughly, Ayato was finishing himself off into you.

It was exactly like this moment, when his face was buried in the crook of your neck, biting harshly, distracting you from his movements. Your face, was crossed between pain and longing. Between your panting and his teeth biting for more leverage, the temperature between your bodies escalated.

"A-Ayato" you gasp, curling your fingers into his back.

He is not generous. When he is finished and you are still wanting more, he dumps you wherever he has pinned you. Ayato doesn't care. He never speaks during sex, just whispers your name quietly at one point in his climax. You aren't even sure if he's aware he does it.

Ayato digs in his back pocket, lifting his head from your tender skin on your neck. He stares you in the eyes, those pieces of flint sending sparks from the knot in your stomach south. He doesn't break eye contact as his teeth rip the top off the square package in his hand.

You don't object. His blatant displays of subjugation never raise a protest out of you. You try to ignore him during all of this. If you can just immerse yourself far enough in the cravings, it doesn't hurt so bad afterwards. At least then, you have something to pin your blame on besides your own inferiority.

"Put it on" he tells you, breaking you out of your induced trance.

"What?" You ask him dumbly, not processing his words.

"Put the damn thing on" he hisses, kakugan activating.

You stare a few beats into those red irises flared with dominance. You yank it out of his hand, earning a narrowed gaze from him. Ayato watches your face carefully as you're forced to unbutton his own pants.  
What is this if not asking for it? You literally are enabling him to do whatever he pleases to you, no objections! And somehow, the only thing you can summon towards him is disgust that he enjoys this. He enjoys the frustration he leaves you with, getting everything he wants and nothing more.

Your fingers shake nervously, torn emotions between receiving his wrath and swallowing your pride. Your hands are still, suspended in midair. You are too aware of his kakugan staring you down, but even with his cold fingers as a reminder on your hips, you don't want to. You don't want to do it.

"I don't want to" you whisper.

Your head knocks against the wall roughly, Ayato's fingers pressing into your neck.

"What the hell did you just say?"

Your hands shake, pressing lightly on his chest. Thin trails of air manage to fill your lungs, but you know Ayato will move onto suffocating you soon. Breaking your resistance down, you force yourself to look him in the eyes.

"I'm scared" you whisper through parched lips.

It is obvious your words catch him off guard, his hand loosening the pressure slightly. Ayato releases your throat, allowing you to wheeze in air. He takes a step back, surveying you. You look up in confusion, eyes scanning over his stone face.

You gag onto his shoes, nearly vomiting. Ayato's fist buries itself in your gut, bruising your liver. The pain drops you to your knees, air dissipating from your lips. Ayato reaches down, pulling your head up to face him by your hair.

"Weak."

He spits the word in your face, grabbing your upper arm. He yanks it from its protective grip on your abdomen, using it to propel you into the bed. The back of your calves hit the edge of the bed sharply, tripping you onto the mattress top. Ayato is right above you, kakugan glinting dangerously.

"What are you going to do?"

The words come out steady, deceiving both forms pressed against the mattress. Ayato shifts his weight, moving his knee from around your hips to in between your legs. Your face heats up at the hard force pressing against you.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to fuck you right here" he growls in your ear.

Your heart sinks that his mind isn't changed. He still plans on ravaging you, chewing into your flesh. Ayato's already unbuttoned pants slide off his hips. He's trained on one thing, ignoring your whimpers of protest.

Deep inside of you, a tremor shakes inside. You know this is the one piece you can't fight, the only reason why you haven't broke to pieces. You enjoy having such a cruel lover like Ayato. His body brings nothing but attraction and lust to you. Even though you fight him passively, something inside you will never let your hate manifest.

Ayato pulls everything covering you down to past your knees, setting back to stare down at you. Shame colors your face in the form of heat, the blood rushing into your ears. The words won't form, there is only the endless expansion of time between his eyes and your own body.

"What's wrong?"

Your voice can only manage a whisper past the flood of heat in your head. He stares down at you a few beats longer, before his kakugan deactivates. Your eyes widen in surprise, the heat slowly returning to your body.

"Ayato!?"

Ayato moves back from in between your legs, pulling up the pants draped around his ankles. He zips them up, heading for the doorway and into the dim lighting from the night sky. The door shuts, the hollow noise reverberating back to you.

Alone and cold in this prison, you wonder why we he left. Everything was certain, set in stone, but he chose to leave you. You want to summon a strong hate for him, wanting to know why he chose to abandon your body like this, like he always does. Nothing will churn up besides your will. Nothing comes to aid you but a cold void and the frustration that comes at the end of all things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are not going to really follow a plot or sequence, some might tie together though. When I wrote them originally they were meant to be separate or extensions of one big story. I will try to put them in as much as I can get them to follow a plot, but it may jump around a bit.


	4. Anthracite

"Don't move."

Ayato's words are easier than his actions. You force yourself to stay still, staring down at the head between your legs.

"Ayato-"

"Be quiet" he interrupts you, not looking at you.

Panic and fear flare in your stomach as he pulls out his lighter. With one flick, the orange flame lights up, the glow showing on his face. You bite your lip to keep from making any noise, fighting to still your jumpy body.

The flame comes close to your skin, and you let out a distressed noise. Ayato keeps his cold flinty gaze trained on the flame, not even aware of your anxiety. The flame nearly licks your skin, pushing you to the point where you aren't sure if you're imagining the heat or not.

Ayato swerves the flame jerkily underneath your thigh. This time, the searing pain is not in your imagination, but instead turning your skin bright red.

"Ayato!"

Your leg jerks reflexively, tender to the touch. The skin hits the air, sore, but not burned. Ayato extinguishes the flame, looking at you with irritation.

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

His scowl is fierce, something telling you he is about to activate his kakugan.

"It burns!"

Your protest comes out with the same amount of hostility, surprising the other.

"No shit dumbass, it's a lighter" he snaps, kakugan activating.

You find yourself taken aback, conflicted as to how to treat the situation. As it is now, Ayato will burn your skin until you're bleeding. Of course, if you protest, he will probably hurt you. Nothing can be worse than being burned though.

"Stop it Ayato, I don't want you to burn me" you say firmly.

His movements pause, and fear begins to root into your spine. Ayato stands abruptly, grabbing the pillow from behind you. In one swift movement he rips the fabric off of the pillow into a long strip. The moment you realize what he is doing, you slide off the bed, but his grip catches your wrist. He yanks you back into his chest, your heart thumping wildly.

"Fight me again, and I'll burn a hole in your leg" he whispers in your ear.

Your eyes widen as he throws you onto the bed, pinning your hips down with his own. You struggle against his hands, but he easily grabs both arms with one hand. Your attempts to slip a hand out of his tying proves fruitless as he releases your wrists. The strip of fabric is knotted tight enough to cut off circulation, and keep your arms above your head.

Both figures eyes lock as they stare into each other's eyes. One is wide with fear, perplexed at the current situation. The other is calm despite the irregular appearance. The air grows silent with static, waiting on one person's next decision.

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

Ayato almost seems startled out of his trance at your bold words. You stare at him, determined to not back down just yet. Ayato blinks at you before lowering his eyes to the lighter in his hand. Panic blooms in your chest, your mind trying to frantically think up something to get him off of burning your skin.

"Ayato" you whine, allowing your subdued lust to filter out.

His eyes meet your own once more, intrigued by your display of need. This self-sacrifice of your own self-worth goes against everything you grew up knowing. Resorting to rather having him be subdued by his own animalistic instincts because you would rather be defiled than burned. The statement in itself hurts more than most pain he could cause you.

"What's wrong?"

His red irises gleam, tormenting you with his words that come out like jeers. He has to hear you say it. If you say it, he will gladly give it to you. He's just one step closer to breaking you down mentally. Your eyes fall back down to the lighter desperately, frustration building up in your mind. Ayato grows impatient with your silent conflict, wanting to hurry things.

Your eyes zero in on the bright flame he emits from his hand, knowing you might not be able to stop him this time. Ayato moves his hand forward, ignoring your distressed noises of fear.

"Ayato!"

He ignores your plea opting to cover your mouth with his other hand. The open flame hits the tender skin underneath your tied arm. It just hurts. The flame molds itself to your skin, chewing away at the cells. Your body reflexively jerks, but the restraints on your wrist hold your arm in place. Your scream is muffled through Ayato's hand, but he isn't even looking at you.

Tears are dripping into your ears. You are consumed with anger and fear at Ayato. Crying in front of him is a humiliation, one visible sign of defeat. You just couldn't suck it up and humor him could you? Instead you allow him to leave marks that can never heal on your body. As if him marking you was ever better than being defiled.

"That couldn't have hurt worse than a broken wrist."

Ayato's bland statement makes you open your eyes which you squeezed shut. He looks down at you, face condescending your actions. Weak. It's the only word that will run through your mind when you look at his   
eyes.

You hadn't even realized that Ayato had stopped burning you. Your skin throbs from where he let the lighter have its free reign of damage. Ayato sits back on your hips, roaming his eyes over your body. He reminds you of an animal, looking for the next place to target. You're afraid.

When his body weight shifts forward, shadows cast across you, panic flares back up. His hand presses harder on your mouth, Ayato's head going over yours. Confusion draws your brow together before you yelp through Ayato's hand.

His tongue slides across the burn, causing you to squirm underneath him. You try jerking your hand out of the knot, but it holds firm, rubbing harshly against your wrist. His teeth pinch the raw skin, causing a cry of pain to once again come out of you. Ayato is enjoying himself, it is obvious in the way his chest seems to rumble at times.

Ayato withdraws, once again settling back onto your hips. Your face is still flushed from both figures provocative position against each other. Tiny zings of pain rush down into your shoulder, forming a subtle ache all the way to your neck. Ayato removes his hand from your mouth, settling both hands beside your chest.

Your chest heaves, but your mind wonders at the probability of him ripping your clothes off or burning you again. While burning you is more ideal to Ayato, you know his mood fluctuates often. He seems to reach a decision silently, dropping the lighter beside your bodies.

Against your better instinct, your hips squirm underneath his when his fingers trail to your navel. Ayato smirks, looking up at you with amused eyes. Heat stings your cheeks at his enjoyment of both bodies' positions. He is always cold, making sure that you never grow too comfortable with his body wrapped around yours.

You let out a small gasp when he strips your clothing down to your bare skin. It would not be unlike Ayato to leave you clothed above your waist. As always, he resembles an animal only interested in taking care of themselves.

You don't want to watch him prepare himself. You don't want to hear his sigh of relief. You want to drown out the pain that always greets you first. You become exhausted too soon, sweat dripping down your temple. Which do you stare at? The distant walls and ceiling, or the man above you, garnering pleasure off your pain?

Fabric burns your sweaty skin, but you can't hide your face from him. Your hips are caught in his claws, body trapped underneath him. Are you supposed to yell at him or yourself? Where is the surrender that comes with every dream? You tell yourself to not whisper his name, but your tongue betrays you.

His hot breath is on your neck, he is too close to you. Ayato suffocates you underneath his hot body, the clothes covering your skin trapping the heat. It is always in this moment, where he is blind to his actions, too busy groping and biting you. He whispers your name in ecstasy, bringing you down to earth.

His hands hurt, always squeezing too tight around your flesh. His teeth leave welts on your neck, harsh groans echoing in your ear. You refuse to cry, so you immerse yourself in his overwhelming presence. The deeper you go, the easier it is to ignore the shame upon you. You need something to hold onto. Ayato plunges you under cold water, leaving no time to gasp for a breath.

It was always him, the canvas he allowed you to keep over the stretch of his bare back, that you held onto. Nails dragging through the fabric of his shirt, holding onto such firm muscles. It grounded you, kept you anchored while he set explosions off in your mind.

The only thing you're left with is a distantly throbbing burn, numbed by your mind which has gone cold. Ayato hurts in the way that you can never really get used to lying with a harsh flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting more attention than I expected. Thank you for all your support:)


	5. Anesthesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little background, foreground, something to base this story on. Basically covers a little bit more of this story which is everywhere.

The door opens, shaking you from your state of drowsiness. Your fear comes flooding back into you, but you stand up anyways. His footsteps are frightening, reminding you too much of a scary movie replay. He is an ominous presence, the bringer of unpleasant times. Your clammy hands clench against the wall, eyes glued to the floor in fear. His feet stop right outside the door, leaving the thin piece of wood as a barricade.

"Who are you?"

Your voice wavers in its demand, cold sweat breaking out on your brow. He stays silent, only heightening your anxiety.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Your voice is nothing more than a whisper, tears threatening. Somehow, his presence is suffocating, as if he plans to choke you with nothing more than his aura. You just want to go home, get out of this place you awoke to. Why is he keeping you here? Why hasn't he killed you?

The door creaks open slightly, widening enough for him to walk through. You slide back down the wall, hugging yourself tightly. You don't want to see him, forming the childish idea that if you can't see him, he cant see you. His footsteps stop right in front of you. You can't breathe in this position, but images of what he did to those officers paralyzes your body.

"This is pathetic" he spits down at you.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Your voice is still shaky, but you manage to pull your head up to look at him. Surprise colors your face at the obvious confliction on his own face. He doesn't know? Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Some funny story where the bad boy-or killer in this case-falls for the ordinary girl? Your heart plummets when the confliction clears, drawing a smirk across his face.

"Here's a ground rule, I'll only tell you once: Don't speak unless I tell you to."

His obvious dominance surprises you, not expecting such a strange demand. He crouches down to eye level, reaching out to grab your forearm. He yanks you close to him, destroying your fetal position against the wall.

"Enough, quit acting like you're this weak. It's disgusting."

The look of disapproval in his eyes churns in your stomach. Anger that he thinks himself above you makes you pull your arm away.

"I have a name you know", you spit the words with malice at this disgusting creature that preys on human flesh.

His hand crushed your cheeks as he gripped them tightly with his fingers.

"I don't fucking care. In here you're nothing, nobody. Understand? Now shut up and do as you're told!"

His voice hissed at you, but what really scared you was his eyes. The scleroses tunneled and turned black. Shock numbed your whole body as you watched his irises bleed red. Images of the night you two had your fateful encounter began to wrack your body.

Ghoul.

And even though you had saw the flames emerging from his back during your first encounter, it never really hit you until he was this close. When your life was hanging by a thread, fear coming through you as a cold sweat.

You breathed heavily through your mouth before, gingerly reaching a hand up to his face. This was a ghoul! What were you doing! Your mind burned horrific images of what could happen through you. His own hand grabbed your wrist tightly, but you refused to be deterred. You used your left hand, sliding it along his cheek softly.

Surprise was in his eyes, confusion written on his face. He didn't expect such a passive reaction, you weren't expecting to act so calmly. You stared at his eyes, watching them twitch as you moved his hair from his cheek.

"What's your name?"

You spoke softly, acting as if you were around a feral animal. Hoping to calm his short-fused temper, you didn't stop cradling his cheek. He studied your face silently, releasing your cheeks after a moment. You felt a rush of relief crash down on you, but you knew it could turn stormy again. He stood up, staring down at you, before turning away.

"Wait!"

Panic wrought its way through you. Where were you? How long would you be there? Was he at least going to feed you? You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping. Your hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, desperate for attention.

He was a blur in your vision, moving quickly without hesitation. You let out a strangled gasp, your back hitting the wall sharply. Your fingers clutched his wrist, trying to claw it off. You couldn't even leave welts on his skin, scaring you further. His hand squeezed on your throat, closing your windpipe. Your face grew tight, head compacting in on itself. Your body fought to choke, to press any form of air through your throat.

"Learn your place mutt."

His eyes have darkened, no longer the light breezy cloud look. At any moment you expected tears of blood to run down his face. Dragging you along the wall, he released your neck with a push backwards. You stumbled, trying to breath and regain your balance. A harsh pain hit your leg as you fell backwards. A squeak left your mouth, desperate attempts to save yourself from falling failing uselessly.

"If you think you have the liberty to act so freely you have a punishment coming."

His face distorted in a snarl, scaring you even more. You wanted to curl up and cry, demand that he let you go free. But no matter how you had approached the situation, his mood swings and anger chained you down. There was no hope of even trying to form a rational plan.

He towered over your fallen form, sprawled across the bed that resided against the wall. You stared up at him, afraid of what was next. Did he plan to hit you? The look in his eyes spoke volumes of murder. You didn't know what to have anxiety over but the near future coming at you full speed.

"You're lucky I'm the one to break you in" he commented offhandedly.

The way he spoke those words did not sit right with you. Break you in? Break you into what? Submission, death, what could he possibly mean that you were lucky about? As if he heard your thoughts, he laughed, a cruel chilling laugh that paralyzed your spine. You could no longer move.

Could ghouls read minds, or have some kind of power like that? You weren't sure, you didn't know what to think. Your survival instinct begged you to run or pacify yourself. Uncertainty burned in your veins. What do you do? What should you do?

Everything was decided for you the moment his hands touched your body. You did not want him touching you. He is disgusting filth that preys on the flesh of your own species. Your body twists, struggling away from him.

"Don't make me laugh, they'll find me".

You spit the words in his face, hoping it will distract him momentarily. His hands freeze, giving you the liberty you need. Before you can act, he tips his head back, bellowing out a sadistic laugh.

"Are you fucking with me? Who's coming for you? That, grandma, of yours? Who told you she's alive? I killed her after I left you here".

If your body had stopped before, it completely shut down now. It simply ceased to function. How did... he know? Any normal person would suspect parents, but he knew you lived with your grandmother. Where was the falsity in his statement? No tears would summon themselves up, just cold numb shock. Ayato laughed more, amusing himself at your despaired and betrayed expression.

"Haven't you heard of leave no witnesses?"

Your first kiss is sloppy, wetting your lips more than you'd like. Angrily, your fingers curl into his hair, pushing his head down harder onto your mouth. It hurts. It hurts so bad because there is nothing to return to, nothing to fight for. This ghoul above you freezes you in your fast steps desperately running away, only to set you on fire.

His fingers trail like ice cubes onto your abdomen, but you ignore them. They are irrelevant when you can just as easily fuel your anger into him like poison through your mouths. His tongue swirls over yours, causing the need to gag come over you. This is the tongue that licks blood and swallows human flesh. No. No.

He breaks away sharply, moving away from you. Where is he going? Is he going to kill someone? Your body can't move from its position on the bed, can only watch the hurricane descend.

"The name's Ayato".

His words breeze over his shoulder as he shuts the door. It is so final to you, that it seems the end has come to greet you. If this is what an old friend feels like, you aren't sure if bonds are ever worth the pain. It hurts and you are ready to disengage from emotion.

Black eyes tunnel into your vision, reminding you of splattered blood on the wall. Red irises gleam in the dark as they tear into the old flesh of a headstrong woman. You only manage to gag once before you slip off the bed and bounce into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated a little earlier than planned because I'm on a writing spree and super excited about the upcoming chapter I've split into 3 parts. See, I'm halfway following a plot line :)


	6. Howl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost a month since my last update?? I feel bad... Thanks for sticking with me:)

When he walks into the room, there is liquid dripping off his hands. You are confused because he's never been this quiet, but it's so dark in this confined area you cannot see what is covering him.

"Ayato?"

Concern or curiosity, both seem to go hand in hand here when you are unsure of what he is planning. Ayato seems to only come here with one objective, but now he just seems lost. His silence grows anxiety in you, Ayato is only ever silent when he is plotting. You are afraid, he is like a poison running through your veins, but has not activated itself yet.

The wooden floor creaks with your cautious footsteps, your eyes prying to see what colors his hands. You are fairly certain that if you had something in your hands, it would have shattered across the floor. Except you have nothing but the raw fear as to where he would obtain such liquid on his hands if not from someone like you. Someone human.

Blood drips from his wrists down, staining the floor underneath his feet. Air comes in unsteadily, your mouth agape at him. What do you do? His eyes are hidden from you. Is his kakugan activated? Are you next? Strangely, some part of your mind remarks that if he killed someone, he just might of eaten them. That might save you for another day.

"There's.. b-blood.. on your hands".

You curse your stuttering voice because you are not this weakling he makes you to be. Confidence is your ally, but now it has abandoned you.

"Ayato-"

Your voice chokes on his name, full of such anguish. You are in pain. Ayato is covered in blood, dripping it onto the floor. What if it's his? What if he's hurt? Your overwhelming concern draws you closer. Don't touch him. Don't touch him. The words burn themselves into your mind. Resistance   
is futile, aiding the enemy is suicide.

Is Ayato your enemy? When has he shown you anything but pain? Images summon themselves up, but one thing stands out among the rest. When he is done ruining you into the sheets or the wall, how he whispers your name so softly. As if it is an apology or thank you for allowing him to come to terms with something that has nothing to do with you.

You reach your hand to his bloody wrist, trying to console him. The wall hits you from behind, and you narrowly miss receiving a welt on your head. Ayato's strong grip clutches your arm over your head, pain singes itself in the form of soon to be bruises. He reaches his arm down your shirt, pulling the collar tight against your neck.

He kicks your legs apart, placing himself against you. The sticky liquid smears itself onto your breast as he rubs it roughly. The only free hand you have is squeezing his shoulder while you gasp for air.

Never. Ayato has never done this. He has never been interested in something besides finishing himself first. You don't understand why he is acting so different. Lust is quickly taking over your mind, smothering your thoughts under its rusted hands. Your mind holds itself upright, one futile attempt to remind you that the blood coating your skin is not your own.

The words won't mold in your mouth. You can't make yourself ask him anything. If he planned on killing the last of your restraint in these moments, you hate to admit that he succeeded. Your mind disappears with the last restrained gasp you can hold back.

Your hand wraps around his neck pulling his head to your own. Kissing him is sweet in the way that it tastes like a nice dose of revenge. Him holding kisses above you as seals to your shame, all of that goes away. His response is stronger than you anticipated, pushing against your lips and knocking your head into the wall.

"Ayato please".

The whine escapes you without being caught, the words too far gone before they're registered. Ayato growls releasing your arm and shoving you to the bed. You attempt to sit on the bed, but he lays himself out onto you. His body is undoubtedly strong enough to pin you down.

Underneath him, your eyes roam over his face, hands smoothing his cheeks. Both of you simply breathe for a few moments, hormones raging fiercely. Finally you decide against using words and slide your hands down. You pull up and tug at Ayato's shirt, demanding he allow you to pull it off. Instead he sits up, pulling it off himself and discarding it to the floor.

For once, you are allowed to view the top half of his body freely without being shamed. Ayato's muscles are toned, everything about him claiming he had to be older than what you suspected. When you tried to pull him back down, his stained hands pulled your arms above your head. Leaving them there, he went after your own shirt which had blood trails on it.

Ayato was impatient with you, yanking on your clothes when you didn't get them off fast enough for his liking. He refused to let you move your hands past your head, holding them down with one hand. With the other he dug underneath your pants, never giving you the chance to protest.  
It was horrible, being trapped underneath him with pleasure chills radiating up your thighs and into your abdomen. His body was so close for you to touch, to leave fingerprints all over. He was tormenting you. Simply keeping himself in close reach, but never enough to touch him.

You couldn't move your head anywhere which would cover your mouth. Ayato's relentless pushing and rubbing between your legs brought raw gasps of air out of your mouth. He is not even undressed and you're falling apart underneath him.

Your body shudders, the obvious restraints you hold onto yourself being evident. Ayato is not satisfied, but you can't see him. Your eyes are closed in hopes of willing the edge away. His tongue delicately licks the edge of your nipple, earning a broken sigh from you. His teeth tear at the delicate nub, ruining whatever control you might have possessed.

Moans curl up from your chest, your body trying to twist out of the devil's reach. Ayato never lets you escape, holding you firm. Sanctuary comes to you in the form of his hand leaving your pants. Confusion clouds you, opening your eyes, lust not done washing your barriers away.

Ayato releases your hands, and moves off of you. A whine builds in your throat. There is no reason he has to leave you right now. Before you can speak his name, beg him to come back and at least finish what he started, those cold fingers grip your pants. He yanks hard enough to drag you halfway with the pants.

When you finally understand just what the hell he is doing, you actually help him thread your legs from your pants. Ayato moves back onto the bed, allowing you to finally get a grasp on him. It is futile, he only lets you grip his biceps and steal various kisses. He pulls your arms to your sides, twisting you around.

Embarrassment burns your face as he pulls you close to his chest from behind. His hand still grips your right wrist, allowing him to move his other hand down your stomach. Shock stiffens your body, but it is a mutual knowledge that your one hand won't be able to stop his. His fingers pry underneath the only fabric left on you, digging into your flesh.

Your spine arches away from Ayato, but the damn hand gripping your wrist never lets you get too far away. Through all the muddle in your mind, your tongue manages to form his name, dripping it from your lips. He growls in response, never allowing you a chance to think over your actions. His lust and dominance over you has long since shut down most functions.

He quiets you, low tones reverberating in your ear. From there he presses kisses to your neck uncharacteristically kind compared to his harsh biting. His kisses burn more than the frostbite, leaving you confused to which one is more painful. Between his kissing and digging into you with only fingers, it is too hard to discern which to focus on. There is no frost in his movements, just hot tongues of flames licking across your flesh. 

What hurts the most is your chest. It feels false. There is an echo inside you, reminding you that beneath these first degree burns is an empty void of ice. Ayato burns you, but not out of something like passion. There is anger and disgust behind his actions. He never entered the room with the intention of ravaging you. He planned to burn you alive in your own skin, having you beg him for every drop of the poison he spoon-feeds.

The realization burns worse than anything Ayato is currently doing. Even though the flames emit enough heat to prevent your tears of angst, he might as well do the same thing he does any other night.

This time when his wretched name is the only thing you can hear besides your heartbeat, you fight to wrap a tight callous shelling over your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a chapter coming soon that is split into three parts, possibly more (yikes)....


	7. Cinders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so apparently chapter 6 was not uploaded when I thought it was ONE MONTH AGO. Sorry for that unnecessary wait, I know they're dreadful.

You already knew how this worked. At times when he entered the room, you weren't always waiting on the bed like a dog. In fact, most times he caught you outside the room. What you were doing was none of his business, although stating that always earned you some form of abuse.

Water swirled down the rusty drain, the sound of it pounding into the plastic tub drowning out any other noise. In moments like these, you were unconcerned with your future. Wiping the water off your face, you grabbed the only bottle of soap in the shower.

Everything in this small area that could be called an apartment by few indicated that Ayato had never planned for housing someone other than himself. Hell, half the time he wasn't in the area anyways. Your escape plan had proved that much to you, even though he eventually caught up. He only came around nighttime or evening, and it was always for you.

Hollow noises bounced in the compact area from the bottle and plastic wall. It was a disappointing sound that proved to lower your spirits. You hated this crud shower that spewed hot water for three minutes and lukewarm for two.

Luckily, Ayato has never managed to catch you in the shower. Normally he finds you trying to free the broken lock on the window. Those few encounters had sent you back to the drawing board, but helped time your showers in the most unlikely time he would return. The thought of Ayato returning when you were in the shower brought goosebumps and cold sweat.

When the door to the shower opened without consent, the water seemed to turn into ice fragments. Your ears rang, heart frozen in your throat. He couldn't be here. Not possible, he wouldn't be back already, not so soon. The sun had to be completely overhead, he almost had a phobia to that specific energy source.

The pounding water matched rhythm with your heart, nervous system frosted over. You were imagining things. Ayato? Here? Hah, that was a joke. It was almost as if ghouls had a thing with the sun. Ayato always left early morning and returned late at night. You knew this.

If that was so, then what was that noise? Was it even there? No, Ayato, by now-

"What are you doing?"

A piercing scream rang in the air, your body collapsing to the floor of the stained tub. The curtain was wide open, serving the view of your naked form to the lank and very relaxed form before the lip of the tub. You stared at the once white plastic bowl you crouched in, trying to calm your breathing.

What do I do? What do I do? I'm scared, help me, someone, help me.

The wet hair sticking to your shoulder was lifted by mysterious hands, surprising you the most in this drastic turn of events. Every intake of breath was heard, and even as the shower continued to drip cold water onto your bare back, you couldn't summon the will to move.

The torrent of chilled water on your back ceased, the trigger pushed to churn it out instead of spraying it into the air. Your eyes followed Ayato's hand from the trigger to the shirt lifted above his head. One lead ball nearly pinned you to the floor at the crushing reality that once again, it was all in the gratifying release, never in the being.

"Wait.. I mean.. I don't understand.. Why are you.. Why are you back already!?"

The choppy words jumbled in your mouth, piecing themselves into broken fragments of sentences. Ayato actually paused momentarily, before smirking and working on his pants.

"You actually time me, interesting".

He chuckles to himself, as if this act of self-preservation is a joke. It comes across to you that Ayato most likely sees no fault in what he does. He is the kind of person who achieves what he wants, and if he can't have it he will steal it. Just like you, exactly like you, the ambition is undeniable. Ayato has stolen you. What has he ever given in exchange for your sacrifices of virtue and security?

Your eyes drop to the floor in exhaustion, watching Ayato step out of the pants swirled around his feet. Here it comes again. There is no end to this cycle of fake intimacy, false pleasure. The cold water reaches the bottom of your thighs, knees cramping from the lack of blood flow and strenuous pressure. You look away from Ayato as he steps into the water. Just block it out, shut everything down, this is how it always goes.

A harsh hand bites into your ribs, pulling you sideways. Singing pain sails up your elbow as you land harshly on top of it, banging your hip in the process. Ayato is unconcerned of the damage he has caused, moving on to pull you closer to his chest. Strange enough, Ayato may not be a fan of close contact, but hugging someone into his chest is almost a thing with him.

It puzzles you, this erratic behavior from such a violent embodiment. His hot and cold demeanor towards you is equally good at throwing you off. He spends entire nights with you, both bodies crammed into a twin sized bed, then punishes you. As if you have ever done anything wrong, his mood fluctuates from remotely close to attentive then to abusive and angry. What reason have you ever given him for such treatment?

Heat nearly seems to steam off of your cheeks in embarrassment. Never in your life have you been in such an intimate position with the opposite gender, let alone without clothing. Discomfort makes you restless, but Ayato makes no move to change the current situation. The water only swells in the tub, the chill barely making up for the heat you are experiencing.

"Lay back."

His words are abrupt and so close to you that your body reflexively jumps. You scoot back gratefully, hoping the situation was proving to be distasteful for him. Maybe you can persuade him to let you leave the damn bathtub. You pause for a moment, eyes flicking to his own. He stares placidly, irritation growing on him. What does he expect? It isn't like you're going to spread out. No thank you, sitting in this position across from him is fine.

You look to him in confusion, perplexed by this weird situation. As if you weren't already nervous at your state of nakedness, this position is asking for trouble out of Ayato. His cold face morphs into one of mischievousness and he moves to cover your body. Instantly, you scrunch your body up, but his hands reach for something past your head.

It grows too quiet in the moments between the water pipes being closed off and Ayato moving back to face you. His hand pries your grip off the edge of the tub, the other moving to cup the back of your knee.   
Tightening your knee was a bad choice, as Ayato proceeds to yank it loose, submerging your hot body further into the frosty water. No matter how you struggle with yourself, you cannot make your eyes leave his face. Are there any indications of what he plans to do next?

His body radiates heat, the exact reason why he comes off so chilly to you. Even with all that overwhelming power and flare, he freezes you to the spot with one touch. His hands move south, once more forgetting that there is still an entire upper half to your body. Impatient with his ignorance games, you link your hands around his neck, pulling yourself up onto his own hips.

It hurts as it always does, especially in this position where there is nowhere to go but down. Ayato's hands slide to far up underside of your thighs, sending electricity up your spine. He lifts you up, shifting himself under you before settling back down. Ayato's head hits the back of the tub, eyes shut in bliss. His expression makes you wonder when you ever watched his face.

Never. You stared at some part of his body that was in action, eyes drifting over the walls and ceiling. Ayato's expressions never once filtered through your mind. A churning feeling stirs in your chest. It identifies itself as a fondness for him in these small moments when he is completely dependent on you.

With that feeling in mind, you force your body to work. It is less distinct, but the last few independent fibers of your being reprimand you for encouraging this behavior out of him. It doesn't take long for Ayato's hands to pluck the strands off of you and toss them away.

It becomes increasingly difficult to not be turned on by the constant stroking movements Ayato produces on your hips to your cheeks, encouraging your hips to fluctuate with his own. Hot air scalds the soft skin of your neck, branding you as a hypocrite for burying your own face in his neck.

Your hands have splayed themselves all down his back. Like finger painting, your drag your hands all over his back when the waves of pleasure rise too far above your head. Small moans are making their way through your mouth and into Ayato's skin. His body is so hot, intoxicating, it burns holes into your paper skin.

Ayato begins his biting when you both are hot and flustered. It is slow coming, but your blessed climax works its way to you as a reward. Your hips are aching, knees protesting at such a spread position. The haze on your mind can't even bring you to feel shame that your body's purpose is to bring Ayato over the edge.

The subtle signs that he is unraveling make your body tense and draw lengthier thrusts. Ayato draws shuddering breaths, still not accepting his verbal want to express himself. Groans are choking their way up your throat, despite your fierce fight against them. You are losing this fight, unable to focus on being grounded while working on so many strenuous efforts.

Without a word Ayato stands up, dragging you with him. The feeling of his strong hands cupping around your bottom with his bare chest against your own turns you on too much. Your nails begin to scratch into his back unwillingly, your mind searching for an anchor amongst your body's sinking.

Strength leaves your body, not even allowing you to lift a hand to cover your mouth. Black stars decorate the inside of your tightly closed lids, scaring you because this is too open. Any moment Ayato is going to snap on you, shatter this-

"......"

In that moment your eyelashes lift themselves from your water line, staring into Ayato's face.

One.  
Two.  
Three.

Three times. Ayato has muttered your name through his lips three times, breaking you into a watered down version of yourself. Unable to resist the flow anymore, your hand intertwines itself into the back of his neck. A tiny hole breaks in your dam of resistance as you patch it over with a hard kiss to Ayato. He is taken aback by your display. Ayato grows still, but as your climax continues to shake you, he is forced back into action.

Breathe. Your mind reminds you of your body's main necessity as you melt into Ayato's fiery embrace. Somehow, you are unbearably hot and sore, but you can't fight your arms from their tight grip around Ayato's torso.

Your lucid eyes flutter as he peels you from the wall, placing you on the floor. Cold water sprays onto your body, shaking you into action. Moving brings exhaustion twinges to your thighs and grimaces to your face. Your tired head watches Ayato's calves turn away then back towards you.

His skin is ablaze, burning you from the inside. You clutch to his embrace once more, unsure of why you are acting this way. Your wet skin meets dry and rough blankets. Your crushing flame begins to leave you, and you are unsure why.

"Don't expect me to be this generous again".

It comes across as a warning, although may have intended to be a snarl. Your evaporated mind, suppressed by so many events does not bother to filter through his meaning. Ayato is not generous, that is a chance that never occurs.

When your eyes roll back into your head, body tingling and sore, you remember how hot his body flush against you is. How awfully strange for a flame consuming those around it to treat a piece of paper so delicately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has hit a stop, not because of anything related to the story, I've just been roped into writing another one, that requires more commitment. I'll definitely keep updating, send me a comment if I don't get to it so fast... Thanks for the last one guys, got me back on track;)


	8. Marrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so sweet I had to post another chapter within a week because all of your comments of encouragement brought tears to my eyes. Thank you so much for sticking with this story, and with that, I post a story with some extra dialogue!

"Say it".

The voice hisses in your ear, the grip on your forearm too tight. In the midst of your panic, your heart pounds on your rib-cage, demanding to be let free. As if it has a say in your respiratory system, your abdomen refuses to expand. Peeling paint is all you focus on, the only thing you can focus on.

"She never got a say in her fate".

A grimace breaks your trance, but you won't give in. The first time he tried this, the damage afterwards was crushing. The second time, you held on better. By now, you are holding out, knowing his objective. The only thing he holds over you is his stolen power. You are not scared.

He settles back on his haunches, a cruel grin spread across his face. Even without his kakugan activated, the chill in his eyes pins you against the other side of the bed. He pulls you to his chest, but this time you resist.

"Let go Ayato."

Curses filter through your mind as you bite your lip as a reprimand. Your voice wavered in his demand, evidence that you were surely cracking. Ayato ignores your protest regardless, and you feel a bruise form under his grip. With a final yank, you are facing him head on, but refuse to touch him.

"Her skin peeled away too easy, as if she was rotting from the inside".

Bile forms on your tongue, tears pricking your eyes. Your hardest efforts are crumbling as he plants image after image of her death. Cramps sing in your hand, fingers squeezing the sheets too hard.

"Are you going to say it?"

Words. He wants two words to leave your mouth. The reason for this psychological torture is only because he wants you to break off another piece of your resistance. Frankly, you feel like breaking it off and stabbing him in the throat with it. The worst part is that a voice in your head encourages you to listen. It spreads lies, cooling the hate in you to a chilled obsidian.

"Fuck. Off."

You spit the words before thinking, regret seemingly throwing its hands up and walking off. How can regret even be exasperated right now? How are you exasperated with yourself when you just chose to tell him off?

His eyes seem to tell you the words he is to proud to say. Using your arm as a propeller, he tosses the top half of your body onto the hard floor. The resounding pain through your skull chides you at such rash behavior.

Splintering pain rips down your thigh, a scream leaving your lips before you are able to form a thought. You writhe on the floor, kicking and twisting with a vengeance. Ayato spins the lighter in his hand, a maniacal grin plastered onto his face. His objective is moments from being achieved. The pain only ebbs away, still sending pangs into your hips. Tears are heavy in your eyes, but somehow you can look at him with betrayal.

"You scream just like her".

The offhand statement splinters your resistance in half. His meaning hits hard, nicking your only vital part left like a bullet. Tears begin to fall into your ears, sinuses closing themselves off.

"I give".

You repeat the two words over and over. Your hands cover your face, body twisted to the side. Sobs of grief churn themselves out of you. Everything hurts with him, it hurts and he holds your solution. Feet hit the floor with a thump, a strong grip pulling you up by your arm.

"Do you think I don't know what you've done?"

Your knees cave, shoulder aching from the tension following Ayato's relentless grip.

"I give".

The words come out as a whisper, but you know he hears you. Grief pools in black puddles into your mind, shuttering through the present in flashes. Relief comes into your shoulder like an injection. Your body collapses to the floor, tears freely falling. You know he doesn't care, but that doesn't make the tears end. Instead you feel shamed and broken. Ayato has taken the only semblance of home from you.

A thick grasp tangles into your hair, dragging you up and back onto the bed. You want to fight, but your resistance refuses to conjure up. As if you have broken a physical piece of yourself, it just bleeds. Ayato moves over you in a fluid motion, ignoring your tears. That's right, emotion is an insignificant maneuver that will not solve your problems. Truthfully, it has no use.

Ayato's mouth moves quickly, leaving triumphant kisses down your chest. Every one burns into your skin, reminding you of what you have relinquished. You are insufferably hot, but something allows you to hold onto your sanity. Once again, you have claws for hands and they bury into the foreign flesh above you.

This is one endless, repetitive cycle. Foreign echoes blur your vision, reminding you that this is where you belong. Underneath this icy flame, where paper crumbles into ashen snowflakes, you are his greatest destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. To my commentator Alexa who requested extra dialogue in the story, how does this chapter meet your standards?:)


	9. Preliminary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I was a bit hesitant on posting this chapter, it's pretty dark but I feel like you guys can handle it. Thanks for the support as always!

In another universe, you could have loved me, and maybe, I would have let you.

 

There are two voices outside the door. Neither of them welcomed, their increasing frequency grating in your fogged mind. An urgency summons your head off the pillow, lifting it to greet the unknown.

"Hey! Wake up".

A strangled yelp leaps out your throat, fingers turning white while they clamp the blanket. Ayato's kakugan gleams in the darkness, adrenaline stirring you. He is here late, but the dark urgency in his eyes moves you to do his bidding.

"What's wrong?"

A grimace forms on your mouth, expecting the worse. Half of you expects him to lash out, but you are still expecting an answer or reply from him. Ayato's blank stare responds to your question, silence following thereafter, curdling your fear. Abandoning the blankets, one foot steps onto the cold floor. A jolt rushes through you, as Ayato tosses a dark object at you. Soft material flounces down onto your forearms, leaving you to feel foolish at the previous display of fear. Your lips twist up in confusion, wondering about why he has decided to give you this sweatshirt in your hands. None of this is implying anything you would want to do, rather it spells trouble for you and fun for him. Ayato grows impatient with your confused doddering.

"Let's go!"

Terror sinking in its teeth, the sweatshirt slips down, mind tampering about his reasoning behind all of this. Dread fills the hollows of your bones as ideas begin to settle in. Yes, you must be going somewhere. This time he will kill you. 

Somehow the idea of him finally getting around to ending you is not as scary as you feel it should be. Almost as if you are an expired product thrown away, you knew this would happen. What is this? An almost relief flooding down your veins that this unstable dimension of a situation is ending?

You can't summon a reason to defy it.

Ayato's posture is terse as he leaves the room. As if you were a pig following the leader into the back of the slaughterhouse, you never raise a protest. Anxiety breaks out as a sweat onto your frazzled skin. The door looms before you. The damned thing sits there as if it itself did not break down your will every time you tried to escape. Never moving, giving you leeway to ruin yourself further.

Like any old enemy who still harbors distaste, abstaining from creaking as it would've with you. The memory is still burned fresh in your mind. As if you could forget the adrenaline pumping through your taught muscles, propelling you out the door. Damn door fought every second of it.

Ayato moves out the door without a second thought. You spare a fleeting look to the doorway before stepping out into the hallway. Something does not allow you to move any further from there, Ayato's image diminishing. Your feet remind you that there is no buffer between them and the cold, broken concrete. It is completely dark out in the hallway, a pit of disappointment dropping onto you. The signs of no habitation and chill in the air only mean one thing to you; when Ayato put you here, he made sure that no one would find you.

The mounting frustration asks you the same questions over and over again, "What does a ghoul want with me?" There is no answer, but the question is distant in your mind. Maybe, it never came down to you. Then it would only come down to convenience and impulse.

The small thought wrenches the dormant anger within to the surface. Vengeance demands you bring yourself justice. Instead, the next exhale loosens the rest of your will. If it was only convenience, you do not have significance. Your end date was quite some time ago.

Ayato takes a sharp turn right, leaving you to chase behind. For a moment, his figure blends into the black hallway. It is only then that an all consuming fear triggers your body into action. Your fingers bury themselves into his back, fresh sweat breaking out onto your body. Ayato's growl is quiet, but loud enough to warn you off. Chewing your lip, the tips of your fingers skim the bottom of his jacket.

Ayato's stop in motion leaves you to bounce off his back. Fear of his irritation forces a quick backpedal from his motionless form. A piercing noise of metal grating follows lazy glimmers of light piercing through the hall door. The glowing light has never filled you with as much joy and dread as it does now.

Outside, the air is cold, brisk enough to cut through your sweatshirt and bring goosebumps out. Fresh air fills lungs stuffed with dust and stale air, clearing your mottled head. How you have missed the open sky above you.

The moment flings into ending as Ayato roughly grabs your arm. He yanks you across the street, moving to the alleyway on the far left. The upcoming street light revelas the environment, bringing hope to the surface from its home of despair. The desperate search for familiar surroundings shows you nothing, fracturing that rising aspiration. As the small hope within fizzles down, the squeezing grip reveals nothing to resemble your memories. The increasing pain from your feet becomes more noticeable. Chills from the cold air bite into your toes, gravel cutting the soles of your feet.

Something compels you to be quiet and wait out Ayato. Because Ayato is short-fused, he tires from mundane tasks. You choose to suffer through your pain, waiting for Ayato's next scheme to unfold.

"Don't make a sound".

Ayato's kakugan has already activated itself, sending a dark message to you. His face is completely emotionless. You have only seen a glimpse of this once, the first time you two met. It is different from any other time he has used it on you. Instead of using it to scare you, or the raw hunger of your first encounter, it gleams with an indifference. Ayato would kill you in a heartbeat, and you are aware of it.

You feel yourself resort into a childlike state. Fear threatens to bring tears to your eyes, wanting you to voice your distress. It is the same fear for survival that keeps you silent and in check. In a moment, there are voices ahead, and you have never felt this emotion before. It comes as a hybrid of hysteria and despair.

Your footsteps turn listless, feet dragging themselves along. Ayato's observation turns on you faster than you expect.

"Keep walking".

The growl in his voice is different. Everything about his demeanor has changed into something cold, resembling what a true ghoul would be. This demeanor petrifies you. This side of him was something he never exposed you to. It is a brutal shock to you, as if he is no longer a burning flame but rather a glinting knife. Still cold as it cuts into your flesh, stinging with a chill.

You almost say his name, dripping it from your lips, but you snatch it back in as one voice sails down the alley.

"Oh? Looks like you aren't half the cheap shit you talk."

The voice is foreign, never heard in your life. It has an almost annoying ring to it, somehow able to conjure up frustration in yourself.

"Shutup".

Ayato's snarl is dark, and you know. There is another ghoul in this alley, you will never get out alive.

"What the fuck did you bring with you?"

The air leaves your body in an almost content way, an acceptance of your impending doom. Ayato turns to look at you, and you can't help but meet his eyes. The red irises are devoid of any emotion but cruelty as he speaks the command.

"You want her?"

You cannot stop the betrayal that appears on your face. It hurts, the betrayal by him. You expected him to kill you, eat you, share in your blood with a fellow ghoul if he could stop being so possessive, but never this. Never did it occur to you that it was within him to discard you to a pack of wolves because you're just a liability to his pride. A weakness in his eyes, crushed under his heel as he walks away.

Ayato does, walk away that is. He moves to your left side, leaving you to face a man who looks at you with more than hunger.

"Don't forget the deal".

Ayato's decisive words cut through you. Your eyes are searching for blood, but it is not physical. Half turning after his retreating body, tears of fear are building in your eyes.

"A-Ayato..."

It comes as a whisper, and you know he hears by the near indecipherable tensing in his shoulders.

"Man, joining Aogiri was the best idea I've made. All my devoted dreams are coming true because of you, little girl. I always wanted to have fun with one your age. All the ghouls your age are just trash".

The voice slithers into your ears like the voices of men who never functioned right in the head. The utter relief in his voice, as if you were a rare object brought to ruin, shakes you down into your core. Sluggish movements bring you back to face him, eyes still wide with shock and fear. 

His own earnest eyes are what scare you the most. The plain brown eyes are so earnest and searching for your approval. You muster disgust for him, but the fear washing over you douses the small flame. His fingers dig into your forearms, pulling your bare feet towards him.

"No...."

"What?"

"Let go of me!"

You scream the words in one burst of emotion, shoving your grief and betrayal in one word. Despite the man's immediately tightening fingers, your body thrashes and twists away. Never have you had such a strong opposition towards something. A hate and will to fight conquers your fear at last as you bite and kick his body.

The sharp ridges of the brick wall making up the alley digs into your head, the man's forceful grip around your throat. His eyes have turned black, red irises conveying wrath at your defiant actions.

"You're just a whore" he hisses.

He grabs the sweatshirt by the hood the fierce wrenching pulling out strands of your own hair. His grip against your neck releases, but you can't afford to waste time trying to breathe. By the time you are able to get your hands to grab onto the sweatshirt, he has pulled your body from it and flung it behind him.

The cold air assaults the warm flesh exposed for you are only wearing undergarments. The man doesn't stop there, grabbing your arms, bruising them in his grip as he pulls them beside your head. Despair settles in your bones as they last few clothing items on your body taken. His fingers feel rough, his skin is hot. You hear his pants fall to his ankles, sealing your fate.

He feels nothing like Ayato. He brought forth warped pleasure, trying to drag you down with him. Fingers that know no boundaries cut the circulation from your hands. His harsh thrusting hurts far inside of you, not the acute pain but rather a burn from sudden stretching and friction. The movement shoves your body hard into the brick wall and shreds the skin on your back. The carefree roaming of his hands leave nothing left to hide from him.

Your body can only sing with pain as your spirit falls to its knees. There is no redemption here. The man whispers vulgar words into your ears and you realize that you don't remember what your dignity was like. The cupping of his hands around your breasts follow with feather strokes of his tongue against sensitive spots. Dead eyes drift up to the sky, mapping out the missed constellations.

He takes too long, so much longer than Ayato. You realize he is in no hurry, he wants to take his time to remember how you feel. Those drugged thrusts bite as far as they stretch, long passing any pleasant sensations. Dull burning emerges with skin peeling open on your back, his fingers trailing down your hip as he forces his tongue into your mouth. Nothing will ever feel this way when he's done with you. It won't end, your breathing stripping tired lungs as your body begins to catch up with him. You try, fight, kick, and tear at your growing instinctual want to reproduce. It refuses to back down, only growing off of the man's demands and insistence.

There are no tears, just a bitter taste of what could have been disgust. His one free hand stops its motions of cupping your butt slides between the spread legs straddling his hips. Your mind disassociates with itself, not inhabiting yourself anymore. Those cries and actions you do are not your own. Everything seen comes through a foggy glass.

Somewhere in your body's harsh crescendo which doesn't even feel too great, you realize that you feel wet. An unspeakable horror cripples you as it drips from between your legs. A foreign sensation of feeling wet inside your own body brings the definition of defilement to another level. You don't know what to do.

A brutal shove slings your body off him, and you slump to the cold concrete. Sweat from another being coats your own naked body, their oils sitting atop your skin. He hauls you back up by your forearm, pushing your torso into the brick wall. And even though shattered, you can no longer exist like this. Without even being conscious of it, you manage to whisper out his name in such a hushed manner, there was no way he could have heard your cries.

The man pulls your hips out farther, spreading your legs apart as he steps between. Somehow, deep inside you, there is a certainty that you have done this to yourself. How could you have not done something to provoke such devastating actions? The wet hair matted to your forehead sticks to the brick wall as you lean your head against it. The man croons words to you, sticky rotten words as he strokes your backside. Before he is able to get himself started again, two words break the turmoil prepared to descend.

"Time's up".

How could it have been only about fifteen minutes but it is as if you have not heard his voice in fifteen years?

"I'll buy the extra time later".

With those words the man's fingers once more dip between your legs. Those probing digits only make it far enough to swirl around in both liquids sitting inside of you.  
Oil splashes onto your back, warm and almost sluggish. You hear the ripping and then cracking noise. Tilting your head a full view of the beheaded man leaking blood into the concrete by his exposed neck burns itself into your mind. His head is a mere foot away from his body, completely detached.

Slow at first before plummeting to the concrete ground, you find comfort in the slow embrace of death. Ayato takes a step towards you and whatever fragile stasis around you shatters.

"Don't touch me!"

The scream escapes your lips, body immediately crunching up. His temporary pause stems from not expecting your drastic outburst. Yet, it is only then that the tears rush out and will not stop. Harsh sobs tear out of your throat, speaking volumes of despair and grief.

You can still feel the sticky liquid between your legs that never completely disappeared. Ayato's brief pause ends and he is grabbing a hold of your arm. His grip lacks the usual strength behind it, but your arm is already so sore from unrestrained treatment. Ayato pulls a limp body from the alley floor, silent tears dripping to mix with the blood.

"Stand up".

His voice is back to its usual growl, but you are so numb. Unable to even bring the thought to connect a reaction, you stand motionless in the middle of an alley. Ayato tosses the sweatshirt into your arms, but you don't see a reason to bother wearing it now.

You see his irritation cross his face, a snarl etched on his face at your refusal to be complacent. A knot of thorns squeeze your heart in a grip meant to cause bleeding. All you can do is stare at him with a look of fresh heartbreak he does not know how to comprehend.

Where are your words? Nothing leaves your mouth because you have nothing to say to him. Just a despair that brings upon you a wretched form of something that has no label of grief. Ayato is sharp in the way he looks away from you, walking a few steps ahead. He pauses, the slim tilt of his head shadowing his eyes from view.

"You're just a tool I picked up in an alleyway, don't get cocky".

Choosing to label this a special form of grief, it was only right this could be a rare form of wrath. Betrayal could break you and grief scatter the pieces, yet neither could kill the trust in him. The manifestation of wrath brought upon death. What small delicate belief of Ayato's trials of suffering and misery was but a way to love you shattered.

"Who do you think you are?"

You whispered the words as if you could not believe they were coming out through your mouth. Ayato does a full turn towards you, his face drawn up in an arrogant laugh that holds malice.

"Say something?"

Your chin lifts, a cruel smile stretching your face. Invisible tears are streaking down your face, or are those real? You are too unsure, not even positive that this is a reality you should be in. Who is this embodiment of you? Why are you laughing, trauma had befallen and you need to tell someone, do something. These thoughts collide and mash themselves together, unraveling and tying knots around each other. Jumbles of hate and grief are pooling together to form malice, and you try to say no. Wanting to protect what ever little strands of peace you two hold between each other, no will can force you anymore. The only word you can force yourself to say loses its meaning underneath wrath's verbal assault.

"No, just surprised that he was a better lay than you".

Blood permeates your mouth, cheekbone throbbing from the harsh blow to your face. From the corner of your eye you are able to see the rage in his eyes that contorts his face. As the demon dispels itself, you can feel the smug satisfaction over the reaction you were able to get out of him.  
Then you stumble to your left, hand reaching up to touch your cheek. Ayato hit you. Of course he did, Ayato always hits you. Did you deserve that? No, what have you done to deserve any of this? You don't believe so. It is that belief that straightens your back to throw him a defiant look despite any fear of him.

"Does that offend you?"

Your nonchalant words, earn you another head bash into the brick wall. It feels it almost certain it will bruise if Ayato doesn't give you a concussion by the end of the night. His body pressed against you; this is what you want. You wanted him angry and fierce enough to throw your weight around and dominate you.

"Fucking bitch".

A small giggle escapes your lips pressed in a smile. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, knowing this will send him off the edge.

"Why don't you treat me like one then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, so this is the first chapter of three, leaving two remaining that tie around the same event. These small prompts are following their own plot before I re-route into something else. I'll post the next one soon!


	10. Oppression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling guilty for posting the last chapter without enough action from Ayato so I think I'll toss this up too.

Stretching and straining, your vocal cords work themselves to your command. Your throat is raw from screaming to the high sky followed with curses and spits at him. Ayato ignores your endeavors, hand tangled in your hair, dragging you along the sharp gravel. Rocks dig into the open flesh of your hip, but you thrash away from him every step of the way.

Ayato's irritation shows itself through how his tight fingers tear loose hairs from your scalp and the hiss of his breath. You try to wriggle your way out of the black jacket again, but in one swift movement he has yanked your arm up and continued to drag you.

At this point you are a flurry of rage and hysteria. The drying blood on your back sticks the fabric and grit on the ground to your skin. Somehow the memory of what outside circumstance made you endure just a mere few minutes ago is blurry and too clear at the same time. The rage that has come back to possess you makes your head turn. Teeth sink into dry flesh, anger locking your jaw.

Ayato's hiss is the only forewarning you receive. He yanks his hand from between your teeth, a clicking noise resounding as you try to keep hold, but end up biting the air. Ayato releases your head, leaving you to fall back on your elbows. Hard rocks imprint into your flesh, bruising the bone underneath. Lifting your eyes to look at him and convey your rage, for a moment you're distracted by the descending black form.

Ayato could have dropped a brick onto your chest and you would not have known the difference. His boot grinds into your chest, forcing your elbows to give under the force behind his action. If his previous actions had not bruised you, the rocks' imprints definitely would do that for him.

Suffering the harsh battle to breathe, the pain was so acute it made piercing shards dance around your lungs. Furthermore, it came to your realization that there was a burning pain searing into your abdomen. Ayato had crushed your abdomen under the heel of his foot, causing the wave of nausea to wash up at the back of your throat. Many times, your gag reflex pushed acid bile up your throat before settling into an unpleasant turmoil. Peering up at him through clenched eyes, a murderous look conveys the serious threat of, "bite me again and I'll tear your flesh off".

Ayato reaches down and grabs the collar of the damned jacket he is forcing you to wear. Using his own momentum, he hauls you from the dirt, up off your feet, and onto his shoulder. The movement topples your stomach, bruising muscles cushioned by his sharp shoulder. Within the few paces it takes him to leave the alley and enter the street, you have overcome your nausea enough to retaliate.

A piercing scream breaks any tranquility in the air, earning a surprised jolt from the body directly underside of you. Once again, your bruised back hits a somewhat smoother, paved road, leaving your vision hazy and swarmed. Through the blurred tunnel, you can only see an angry red iris staring into your own.

Ayato's knee presses harder and harder into your abdomen, both of his arms pinning you down by your wrists. It hurts, everything hurts, and at the moment your rage flees you once more, leaving you with nothing but physical despair.

"Bitch huh? If that's how the treatment you want then..."

Ayato's hand closes over your throat, fingers squeezing and crushing the tendons just below. The suffocation of your esophagus is quite painful, and despite your attempts, it forces your body into a panic mode. There is not enough air, you are suffocating, lungs burning, and Ayato will truly kill you for this. Somehow, this spikes tears in your eyes. Using your only free hand, you try to claw at his face, but he leans back, fingernails, swiping just under his chin.

Those red irises are now mocking you in what must be all fair play in Ayato's eyes. Even so, the blurred vision tunnels farther, leaving nothing but smudged red splotches. Weakness plagues your body, the fight inside of you depleting. An oxygen deprived brain fights desperately for a solution, but even then, without sustenance your neuron connections begin to slow. As your arm begins to descend, a crushing feeling in your chest cavity, you feel the panic inside you begin to ebb away. When the air comes rushing back into your lungs in such a dizzying spree it gives you a high rush as it surges down your veins, you cough hoarsely, throat sore from being crushed.

"Listen closely bitch, act out again and I'll kill you on the spot".

Using the excuse of coughing to ignore Ayato's statement, you turn your head from him. Tears are trying to burn themselves down your cheeks. He tried to kill you, degrade you, kidnap you, and sell you, for what? Unable to help it, you turn to look at him, and say words you are certain will get him off the edge.

"If you were going to kill me, you would've done it. Admit it, I'm your weakness".

Without a change in his expression, he tears the fabric of the jacket apart, once again leaving you completely bare to his mercy. The hand grabbing your wrist squeezes tightly once more, and you're terrified he will try to break it again. The air in your chest freezes up as you hear his zipper unzip itself. Not here. First, he is not that kinky, second, did he realize you were in the middle of a street?

"Ayato, what are you doing?"

The panic is too obvious in your voice, too empowering to him. There is a sadistic grin plastered across his face. The last time he looked like that was when you tried to leave him. That smile had wounded your body and stole your virginity in one go. Ayato was no longer irritated, he was playing with his food now. Casting his gaze down at your naked body he runs a hand up your side.

"Fucking you".

Shivers bring goosebumps to the surface although you have sweat on your brow. You know your eyes are wide with fear, but that doesn't stop you from continuing to talk. Honestly, not shutting the hell up will probably be your demise.

"Don't forget you have standards to live up to".

His grin broadens and he runs his nose along the side of your neck. A yelp leaves your throat as he bites you sharply. Ayato's tongue licks the side, and it dawns on you that he drew blood from your skin. The words ghoul bounce around your head in a chaotic mess. Is he going to fuck you in the middle of a street while eating your flesh from your body? Those red irises are illuminated by the black pools they swim in, his smirk terrifying you in the streetlight.

"I thought you'd taste nice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this wraps us right into the last chapter of this strange arc, which should be posted hopefully sooner rather than later...


	11. Senesence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! The third chapter of this (probably) spin-off?

The high pitched moans escaping your throat are mortifying to say the least. Practically screaming your pleasure into the crook of Ayato's neck, it is degrading really. You don't remember ever feeling this amount of pleasure in your life. The delicious way you feel Ayato slide deep into you, rubbing your lower back against the pavement with such harsh force, leaving behind that slick noise you have learned to identify.

Ayato pulls back out, leaving you shuddering and clawing at his back. There is not enough air, you are unable to breathe and cry out so loudly at the same time. Ayato's teeth sink into another tender spot, eliciting a pained gasp out of you. Ayato bites to draw blood and tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes. He distracts you, thrusting harshly inside once more. Raspy groans break out of your chest as your hips fluctuate with his own.

Ayato's distraction is momentary as his teeth bite yet another patch of skin into numbness. A dull ache thrums down your throat to your fingertips. The pauses between his bites and thrusts are in sync, allowing your attention to spare no extra time on each. It is if he is aware that drowning you in your own endorphins enables him to act upon you how he sees fit.

Ayato's face drops from your neck down, a strangled scream breaking your lips as he twists inside you. Does it hurt, does this feel good? Shouldn't you be saying something, fighting for a reason? You don't remember, you don't want to remember. Everything feels too good, too perfect. There is no reason to break this tranquility.

Ayato's fingers wrap themselves behind your knees, pulling your legs higher in the air. It is as erotic as it is embarrassing, your face burning not only from the physical exertion. Three more thrusts, your body is convulsing underneath his, unraveling at the seams. Ayato chooses to slow down, truly dragging himself in and out. Through the entire crescendo of simply feeling good, slight twinges of pain are breaking into your haze.

It is irrelevant. Everything feels much better if your body cooperates. Even though your hips are tired, fingers numb from squeezing his shoulders so hard, it all feels worth it. Ayato's fingers release your right knee, scooping up your chin in a hard squeeze. One deep kiss filled with nothing but raw frustration. You swallow this frustration and let it curdle itself into anger.

In retaliation, you nip his bottom lip sharp enough you are certain you've drawn blood. Ayato growls, turning you on by the way it reverberates inside your chest and down south. All of the blood in your body has flowed to two polar places. Your face is so hot it is hard to breathe, but the gasps escaping with every breath flow from where Ayato buries himself repeatedly into you.

Ayato grips your breast with his only free hand, moving his body farther over you. Desperately, your right leg tries to hook itself over his rising hip, but exhaustion makes your muscles convulse. Ayato only lifts your left leg higher, tipping your body to the right. His thrusts don't stop, still dragging himself in and out, slick with sweat.

"Ay-agh-Ayato".

His own name won't even come out of your mouth without turning into a jumbled mess. Ayato isn't looking at you, and you know he won't look at you. Smugly, you pull your lips up beside his ear and moan loudly. Ayato's hand lays your shoulder flat against the road, pushing harder into your body. The skin behind your knee goes numb, fingers digging sharply into the side of your knee.

One hand moves up from clawing his shoulder into his hair, pulling on the short tufts. Ayato's hand moves from pushing your chest down to rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The action is unfelt, but the pleasure burns brighter between your legs. Ayato thrusts quicker, you curse him for this, but your nerves begin to vibrate from over-stimulation.

"I'll make sure you won't forgive me".

Ayato's words bounce around your eardrum, thrumming with horrific possession. Your body is screaming, but you are not. You are staring at the stars so far above, wondering where you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the future there will possibly (yes) be other chapters similar to this, but I am trying to focus on how this is affecting All of My Wonderful Readers and Ayato's relationship!:D


	12. Requisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God I'm so sorry this chapter is the newest one I've created and in my excitement I'm posting it not even three minutes after finishing it. If it's bad from not being revised cut me some slack, I'm on a bit of a binge.

"It hurts!"

The exclamation is sharp and rather pitiful sounding. It comes out as a gasp expelled from your lips, and Ayato doesn't bother pausing at your first cry of pain, rather digging his fingers in deeper. Squeezing tighter onto Ayato's shoulders as he steps in closer, your face shies away from his advancing body, eyes squeezed shut. Heavy shudders shake the top portion of your body where it has been pinned to the flaking wall. This man- no ghoul, is violent and there seems to be no reason to his actions.

"Still hurts after only one day", Ayato mutters almost in an annoyed tone.

Outrage threatens to open your mouth in loud protests, but something quells the violent emotion.

"W-wait", you stutter, breathless and surprised when his fingers slip out.

After a moment of Ayato shifting but no longer probing around inside you, one eye begins to lift slightly. During so, the faintly stinging sensation that has begun to ebb away comes back once again. The strong burning tears upwards, deep enough to summon a reflexive tightening of your fingers and a face drawn up in pain. Ayato shifts, and it's enough to conjure up tears at the backs of your widened eyes. Don't be weak, you plead, but it hurts so bad, and everything just feels scorched by his touch, body and mind alike. Attempts for words come out in chokes, and Ayato begins to step back, drawing a line of fire down from the inside. Without waiting for any thought to determine your next action, a reflex jerks your arms down Ayato's back, desperate to hold him closer. Biting back the whimper of a "Please", you beg silently that Ayato will stop moving.

There is a long stretch of no action, and in confusion, your eyelids shutter open. Ayato stares back at you impassively, giving the impression he is waiting for your childish squeals to end. Biting the inside of your mouth, more angry words get stuck in their battle to cram themselves out of your throat all at once. Ayato takes the silence as submission rather than unchecked anger. There is a jerk and with it a gasp of pain. Ayato's removal has a bitter tinge to the pain of raw skin, but a relief subsides the majority of it. Taking a moment to clutch at ragged gasps, Ayato allows but a few breaths before his possessive hands clinging to the sides of your hips yank you forwards. A startled expression betrays your true feelings, but Ayato is spinning you around and pushing the front of you back into the wall. Pushing back against him only benefits Ayato, the smooth curve of where your back ends and thighs begin digs into his pelvis with the defiant push backwards.

"Breathe", Ayato reprimands you.

A scowl etches itself across your face, but gingerly, you swallow an inhale. The exhale holds itself within your chest cavity, bouncing around as a mixture of sobbing and screaming. Ayato has slid back in from behind and somehow it hurts worse this way. The inflamed and sensitive tunnel leading inside of you clutches onto Ayato's shaft as he starts up with drugged strokes. Shaky fingers turn into tight fists, the exhale finally spewing itself with a harsh gasp. The pain adds a sensitive edge to the small ridges of pleasure that are being sparked at Ayato's flinty movements. Biting down harder on the inside of your mouth, it quickly becomes a struggle to keep tiny noises from escaping with the small puffs of air out your nose. Ayato rubs up the inside of your thigh, fingers reaching up and poking around the area above the abused entrance Ayato has taken possession of. When Ayato thrusts, a tiny whimper escapes your closed mouth, his finger rubbing between a sweet spot and the cusp of the entrance he currently is unrelentingly pushing into.

Ayato's finger rushes up, pressing hard down on the tight knot begging to be punished. Betraying you, at the sudden rush of pleasure tingling down your thighs, your knees weaken, almost dropping you down to the cold floor. Ayato's strong arm slips across your midsection, propping your hips up in the ideal position to be open and inviting. Sweat has broken out along the curve of your back, following the struggle to keep your breathing under control. The telltale sign you've recently learned appears, sending up red flags in your dazed mind. Ayato's thrusts stay strong, but a throbbing that is not coming from yourself pushes around inside of you. Shame colors your cheeks, but pleasure blurs the lines between consent and struggle. A moan whistles between your clenched teeth, encouraging Ayato to continue.

"Do it outside".

The whisper is so quiet, it almost escapes your own hearing. Ayato is seemingly smirking or laughing; he is hidden from view, but the way he shifts is apparent that he will ignore the request. Turning your head upwards like it will stop the inevitable, Ayato's breaths are on the back of your shoulder. Whispers for your attention from his body break down the little resistance left at this point. Turn and embrace him, they whisper, heat trailing up and down the veins within the skin. Ayato's strong grip on your midsection tightens, and there is a hint of gratitude, your legs having grown to the point of shaking underneath him.

"Hey, tighten up".

The slap is as sharp as the startling motion against the side of the cheek protruding into the air. Clutching a hand to your mouth which screams in protest to let out noises that mirror the warring emotions and sensations within, Ayato digs his knee into the near dangling right leg, pushing the thigh further outward. His finger prods relentlessly at the knot hidden above the stretching and contracting area he continues to overuse, and despite your best attempts, Ayato gets what he wishes. The burning recedes into a dull scratching, the hand sealing off the moans growing slack with the increasing pull of unraveling the knot pulsing down below.

"Don't-"

The word is too late, Ayato's relaxing muscles, satisfying some urgent need and overlapping all judgement. There is some indescribable sensation of a thick liquid sticking to your inside walls, which only worsens when Ayato unwraps himself from you. Without his arm, it becomes evident the amount of which you were relying on him when your knees can no longer support the heavy leaden body on top of them. Slipping down the wall slowly, your forehead rests against it in exhaustion, sweat and muffled heat trapped in all of the crevices that are cramped from being in one position for an although short, strenuous amount of time. The worst comes after your folded legs begin to ache, the pain coming back in slight pulses, and lastly a strange frustration that does not seem to be controlled by you. Protests cause squirming and squeezing of sticky thighs trying to stimulate something out of you.

"What, can't do it yourself?"

Ayato's condescending words rub the flush of embarrassment onto your already hot face. He crouches down, a slight fear pushing your back further into the wall, but Ayato is interested in doing things his way only. His hand latches onto the inside of your tucked leg, pulling it outward and yanking your body away from its supportive wall. Startled, one hand comes down for support, hitting the wooden floor with a smack, but nearly slips away with Ayato's next actions. Releasing the back of your knee, Ayato uses the same hand to dig around inside, pausing once to throw you a knowing and unimpressed look once his fingers are dipped in sticky fluids. It is mortifying but at the same level, gratifying to have such shivers of pleasure rush into around like sparks. Then it ends with a harsh cold breeze left behind where Ayato retracts his hand and stands up. Without any rationality, pure instinct clutches his retreating hand, words coming out in small, lustful pleas.

"Wait, please".

Ayato looks down at your starved form before yanking his hand away, and then with it, his own body. The rejection is haughty, but that is fleeting once the shame crushes your spirit. This frustration is consuming and demanding, pressing at the corners of your mind for something to bring satisfaction. Unlike the previous night when any slim strands of lust were smothered underneath Ayato's unwavering craving for carnal pleasure, there was nothing left but utter exhaustion, and then more because of Ayato's refusal to stop. The meaning of hunger was clear in your mind when he finally let you be, body too hot and thick to find the energy to lift one limb. You couldn't fight back if you wanted to. But this time there is no room for defiance, just an endless push for Ayato's attention and approval in the form of his slick fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're jumping back a bit in this timeline so just assume this is before he got around to crushing anyone's will okay? c:


	13. Errose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for inspiration to strike...

Bruises litter your body. Purple and black splotches lining up and down, patching across your limbs as if you are a child's stained t-shirt. Even in the cracked and rusty blurred mirrror, the red marks and defining displays are etched across your body like you are not human. Like you are a possession. Tears of despair and mortification burn at the corners of your eyes, but the tasking job of making sure nothing is seriously hurt is more pressing. Wrists, left elbow, both knees, left heel, right ribs, the mental list grows longer the dull throbs sing out to you in pain. The same singing which awoke you from your complete blackout still haunts you underneath the naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Gingerly, you leave the bathroom, eager to crawl back under the heavy sheet and sleep until you can think no more. Curling under the comforter, clothes discarded on the floor and eyes shut, your mind howls for answers and explanations. Retribution and vengeance for the murder and betrayal of a young girl only last night. Flashes of the street light cast onto a dark figure at the corner of your eye, just behind the building corner cuts so deep into your chest that spasms begin in your chest. Angrily, you punch the bruise on your chest until the air filling your lungs is followed with a sharp pain each breath. A small sob breaks from your lips, resounding in the quiet room. Furious shakes of your head, this will not crush you. Somehow, the man's caress of his sweaty hands rubs down your lower back and between your legs. Clapping your hands to your ears, burying yourself under the sheets, tears burn themselves out from your heart and through your eyes. This pain sings a bitter song, resting your weary mind with it's melody of woe.

This pitiful state is what Ayato walks in on, viewing the discarded clothes and motionless lump underneath the sheets. Ayato yanks the covers down, exposing your hot body to the cool air. Fiercely, he grabs your wrist, pulling your body close to his own standing at the side of the bed. For a brief moment, your eyes meet, his cool flinty eyes staring down at you in annoyance. The bruise on your wrist aches sharply, cutting your mind out of whatever trance you put yourself in. Twisting, your legs kick out, cuffing his hip and managing to free your wrists. Immediately, his kakugan activates, stopping you momentarily. Those red irises gleam like the blood splattered across your back. Ayato takes that advantage to completely smother your body with his own. Releasing a frustrated scream of suffocated anger, you sling your small fist into his cheekbone, entire arm backlashing in pain. The action serves to do nothing but irritate him, and he drags your entire body onto the floor. You feel that hollow thump through your ribcage and out of your fuzzed head. Rolling groggily, your eyes roll up to look at him, kneeling beside your body. His hand moves, but you violently flinch away, legs swinging to hit him once more.

"Stop moving", he hisses, catching your left leg underneath the knee, fingers pressing into the bruise he gave you just last night.

Your breath whistles from where it was forced between your teeth, a growl erupting from your chest. Twisting, kicking, shifting through his pinching grip, you fight him with everything in you because he has left you with nothing but this gripping void and it just hurts. Physically, emotionally, mentally, everything hurts and there is nothing to heal the charred stumps of where your happiness used to be. There is nothing left for you to lose, so you plan on ending it now.

"Let, go of me!"

Grunting, you snap your knee towards his face, surprised when he dodges it, fingers planting onto your pelvis and yanking you across the floor. Struggling to swallow a breath through your nose, Ayato fingers drift up uour exposed torso, trying to calm you in the only way he knows.

"No!"

The one word is screamed loud enough to make your own ears ring, smacking your palms flat against his arms, shoulders, cheeks, thrashing underneath his body. Ayato snarls, body spread full out over your own. Sobs break through your seemingly dying mantra, the fuzzy memories of the man with sweaty hands gripping onto your skin once more afresh, circling about you in a never ending carousel.

"Enough!" Ayato snarls, smothering your mouth with his hand. Outraged, you sink your teeth into his hand, ignoring your own alarm at biting someone this hard. Ayato pops his hand out from beneath your teeth, leaving your jaw to snap shut with a click. Those black eyes are mottled with anger and impatience, but he is not understanding. There is no warped satisfaction in those eyes. Ayato doesn't understand your outrage. The despair that follows afterwards is enough to drown you in what you can only describe as a blackout. With newfound strength, Ayato's entire body nearly shifts off from its position on top of you as you pitch yourself to the side. Managing to get onto your side, looking back down at his scrabbling fingers with a snarl, of its own accord your fingers bury themselves into his hair, ripping it to the side. Briefly Ayato's anger relents, distracted by the sudden pain, allowing you to roll onto your stomach and push yourself out far enough for him to get desperate.

Because your skin is sticky, and because you are struggling enough to slip out of his tight grip, Ayato is having trouble pinning you to the floor. Crunching at the hips, you whip your spread hand towards his face as quickly as possible. The resounding smack burns your hands and vibrates the tiny bones within linked in your knuckles. For one moment, both of you stop to stare at each other, both aware that this brings on the next level of your relationship. Standing up quicker than you can retract your hand to catch your unbalanced torso, Ayato's swift forearm swoops down to scoop underneath your armpit. The motion goes through, lifting you from the hard wood floor and slamming your back into the wall. Choking on air that was quite literally punched from your chest cavity, your vision fuzzes grey at the edges, tunneling on his black boots. Tilting your chin up with his finger, Ayato tries kissing you, the one thing that was a step in the direction of trapping you within your own barriers. Regardless, the edge of your knee chops upward and buries itself into the softer flesh of his pelvis. Yanking himself backwards away from you and staggering as if you have buried a knife in him, the opportunity presents itself. Disregarding your naked state, you tear across the floor for the door as if you were dying.

The only signal you get is a quick thump before something hard completely sweeps your ankles up higher than you would've stepped. The wooden floor greets you hard, new bruises and old ones stopping in to say hello momentarily. You cannot die here, you will not die here, he cannot take you like this. Ayato will never win like this. Stomping onto your outstretched fingers with the heel of his boot, a sharp scream pierces your throat. Retaliation spurs you to peel out your fingers and roll over to your feet. Ayato moves quickly, fingers slipping off your arms as you two dance circles around the wooden floor. Managing to jump to your feet before his hand snatches your wrist, staggering backwards to create distance, both of you are heavily breathing at eye level, glowering from across the room. Ayato blocks the door, and you are right in front of the bed. You can't guarantee he won't simply tackle you into it.

Ayato moves forward and you fake sprinting to the left. Using the few sport skills that could still keep you afloat in gym class, you pivot off your right heel and take a wide curve to the door. With the sheer nonsense of the entire situation, briefly you grin, making it outside the threshold. The small achievement lights the wick of hope, spurring you forward. Greeting that cursed door, your fingers swipe across the handle, feet lifting in the air. You don't remember ever moving this quickly.

Ayato's fingers have caught onto your arm, and in the instant it happened, your head turns to the right, glimpsing his face covered in pure rage. A crack resonates through your ears as he pulls you from the wide parlor back into the bedroom. The force of his pull is enough to lift you from the feet and back onto the floor with enough energy to push you a few feet once you've crash landed.  
The bruises across your body sing as if they are angels brought down to chain you to Ayato. Said ghoul crushes your body, angry words escaping his mouth. The dialogue that passes between you two is some form of rage spitting at itself to win a fight that will always resolve as a stalemate. Somehow, deep inside, you've given up fighting once he has landed back onto you. Ayato is stronger, and definitely weilds every bit of his stolen power over your head. His possessiveness is just one more way to say, "You will die here".

The thought pauses your body, kicking legs settling onto the wooden floor, fingers slipping from pushing Ayato's shoulders upward. Dropping your head with a thump to relieve the bowed neck of yours, Ayato stares at you in bewilderment. Blinking, fat, wet tears slip from your eyes, pooling into your ears and dropping onto the floor. One miniscule breath hitching on a dead sob escapes your lips. Digging your fingertips into the fabric of his jacket, all of the sorrow you ever hid within you under the pretense of hope rains upon you. There are no bright skies anymore. Call it indecision or abuse, both of you had no idea what love consisted of besides this. Laying on the floor as a mass of tangled limbs and smothered frustration, tears of sorrow and betrayal slipping from one's eyes, Ayato gives you a genuine confused look, chipping off the last piece of his masterpiece. The realization that this way he holds you is the only way he knows, and the only way it will be is like him finally demanding the death of anything you ever were before he stole your future away. Somehow, without the pressure of surviving in captivity long enough to escape, there seems to be a whole lot of room leftover for you to fill with any kind of warped love for Ayato. Blinking the excess water from your eyes, gingerly your hands cup around his cheeks, accepting that this love will be your ruin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still have some chapters in store, so this mini writer's block isn't too serious:)


	14. Acquiescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am still alive. I got lucky and managed to have one more decent chapter to upload. I know I've been behind, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten!

There is nothing gentle about how his fingers press into your head without consideration of your own pain. It hurts, or at least is should on some emotional level, but instead this time it drives you to pinch the air in your enclosed mouth. Ayato grunts harshly, near panting when your lips slide back down his shaft, squeezing as they move back upwards. Arms of your own are crossed over those toned thighs of Ayato's gripping the underside of his hips while you vigorously do his bidding. There is nothing to stop you, nothing that wishes to hold you back. At least this way, there is some pleasure from it. Inhaling deeply, the exhale thrums in your throat, tickling the nerves at the very end of him. Ayato's torso curls over you, other hand clutching onto your back. He doesn't know what to do, and that feeds the sick satisfaction in you. Fighting the curling of your lips, this time, you want to make him lose control. Almost purring in the back of your throat, mouth probably too wet for your liking, there is the small urge of Ayato's hand and you have slipped him into the back of your throat. His grunt is strangled, making the heat radiate like fumes from your face. Reality slips from the edge of your fingertips, dropping down somewhere you cannot reach. Passion and a submissive pleasure lift your head from where your stiff neck has been arched over. Looking up at Ayato with saliva stained lips, your eyes plead with every suppressed urge you've had. There is no denying you have been waiting for this.

Leaning down, Ayato's dry lips grow moist with his hungry and open kiss. Pushing your face upward, trying to capture just a little bit more of him, Ayato draws away, intent on keeping control. The need inside you is so bad tears try to fight their way to the surface. How badly you want him to crush your bones in his suffocating embrace. Clawing into his shirt for leverage, once more your lips prod against his own, moving upwards. Ayato humors you for a little, letting his tongue trail across your bottom lip before kissing the stinging lips. Yet once more, he settles back into his normal position, despite those claws embedded in his shirt. It is those same claws that rub up his chest, trying to curl behind his shoulders and neck. Ayato grabs your trailing wrists, tugging them from his body. A pitiful whine breaks from your chest, moving your body to prop your breasts onto his knees. The distraction works, his flinty eyes dropping south, staring from the best angle he's gotten. While you free your wrists with no problem, seeking his shoulders for another kiss, Ayato hikes one side of your shirt up. It distracts you momentarily, allowing him to stand up, sliding your arms off his body. Ayato moves to the side, leading you on to believe he is leaving. An exhale hitches inside your throat, and you scramble to your feet, grabbing his arm. Those sharp eyes cut like a cold knife, weakening your grip. Somehow, the flop of dark hair shrouding the icy gaze of his melts anything to your knees.

Tugging on his sleeve, Ayato steps towards you, allowing those dangerous arms of yours to link around his hips. Standing on the tips of your toes, brushing his lips with yours, there could be nothing worse than waiting for him to give permission. Ayato lets the moment warp itself, starving you of all desired physical contact. Finally, his head tips, some internal war inside him losing and giving in to your sex appeal. Ayato kisses you, tongue brushing on the top of your lips once more. Swirling your own together, a moan curls out from your chest, allowing your left hand to squeeze his wrist through his long sleeves. The other one has swooped behind his neck, pressing down to give you more freedom. Ayato breaks away suddenly, hand slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. Surprising you, Ayato links your hips around his waist. Panting harshly, flushed face dropped in the crook of his shoulder, you utter, "Fuck", hoarsely as your breath will not slow down. Flat palms rise up your back, dragging your shirt with them. Now would be a time to stop, say no, return back to the original state you should be in. Instead you ask his permission, letting him peel the shirt from your skin.

"Please".

The bed was never big enough for two people, although somehow when you're laying atop of another person, there is enough room to comfortably fuck someone brainless. Ayato has plans to do exactly that, massaging your neck with bites and sucking, all the while his hands roam about your torso. Staring upwards, chest heaving, you aren't sure how exactly you plan on making it through this.  
Ayato licks up your jaw, moving backwards to focus on the pants of yours. He is fully clothed and it pisses you off. Snatching at his collar, fighting his own hands to pull the shirt off, Ayato denies you everytime. Glancing up at your eyes in irritation, he utters "No", to your face, resuming sliding the pants from your legs.

Exasperated and sexually frustrated, the balls of your hands press into your eyes, clawing into your hairline. Ayato was never fond of kisses, but the way he distracts you with one while freeing himself is enough to convince you that there might be something behind all of his passion. This precious flame that allows you to curl your fingers in the tufts of his black hair pushes against your lower back, bowing your body into him. It is too much, whimpers breaking out in between the unguarded pants you release. Brushing the tips of your fingers across his cheek, there isn't anything that finds it alarming when he tips your leg higher on his hip. Shattering the kiss with a loud gasp, Ayato pulls back slightly, staring down at your shuddering form. He has only waited a heartbeat before dragging himself out and then back in. The shock wears off immediately, small static still causing you to twitch. Looking to his face, Ayato has found glory between your legs. Like a child, you raise your arms towards his face, embracing him into your skin. It takes only three more thrusts to turn you into something primal. Groaning aloud to the air above Ayato's shifting back, the ghoul crams your thigh completely over his hip, pelvis snug with his own. That doesn't stop him though, only another excuse to push your ankles higher in the air. Despite the roaring of the thundering pulse in your ears, the entire room is silent. Of course, Ayato's fierce rocking has made the bed squeak on its frames, embarassing even though everything he is doing is with your consent. That slick noise is unbearably loud when you aren't moaning with a voice quite different from your usual one.

"Come on", Ayato grunts, and you know this was supposed to be a quick affair. This was how you started with your head between his legs, but now he is between yours. The irony of it all would bring a laugh from you if your lungs were not cramping from the strain. Ayato lies on your body, his own weight pressing the body underneath into the mattress. The sheets are wet and crumpled, the two bodies frantic motions leaving the bed in a disordered array. A sensitive spot forms well within you, signaling the crash of your high. From there it spreads downwards, Ayato not slowing his pace one bit. It comes fast, hard yet fleeting, the sweet aftereffects being milked out while Ayato continues digging within you. It is only when your nerves recover from being numbed by overstimulation, firing themselves up for Ayato's jerky movements does his finally give in.

"For fighting so much your legs are wrapped around me awful tight".

The statement is hot in your ear, bringing forth the realization that both ankles are linked behind his back, holding him inside of you while the climax squeezes out anything left in you. It is a brutal shock, knowing you have given him full consent to completely leak himself into you. There is no doubt it has felt better than any other time, but there is still that underlying betrayal to yourself. Ayato peels himself from your skin, somehow leaving an impression of where his body should retain its form against you. Without the destructive flame he emits, you are strangely cold, near shivering as he pulls himself from the top of the bed. A chill hits between your legs, but you are only able to sluggishly close them, the effort sucked out of you. Staring after him with a tired vision, you watch him clean himself before shrugging those pants back on. There is the click of his belt, and you try to sit up. The dead weight in your limbs hinders your motions, only allowing you to sit up halfway. Ayato stands over you, having moved when he caught sight of what you were trying to do. Fiercely, he rips the blankets from underneath you, dropping them atop your head.

"Sleep", he says, "I'm coming back later".

Ayato's words shouldn't bring a sense of pride swelling your chest nor a desire to abide by his statements. Regardless, your drooping eyelids close before he manages to shut the door, fully energized with his newfound power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Kaori can get herself together and finish the other five chapters that are still lined up, I should have something posted relatively soon >.>


	15. Extrication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the only reason there's another chapter is because you guys are 1. Persistant, 2. SO SUPPORTIVE, and 3. Good people. You're all good people. I hope this chapter breaks your heart as a reward.

Ayato squeezes your biceps, urging with his frantic kisses that loop and repeat over the plane of your skin. Face, neck, lips, drifting down your chest and then back up to bite your collarbone, pinching the softer flesh between his harsh teeth. Ayato is sensual, something unusual, but your mind is too blurred behind his passion to wonder about the reason why. Instead, hands creep up, mapping the taught skin wrapped tight around his ribcage and then curving around to his back. Clutching him close like this seems like a dream you didn't realize was still held in your heart. Sighing softly, you feel Ayato's hair brush against your naked shoulder, his hands running circles around the curve of your hip and linking behind the cusp of your knee. The bed groans, Ayato's hips grinding between your pelvis, digging claws into his back. He has moved your reflexively closing legs out of the way for him to lay down against you. Heavy but comforting, tears pull at the corners of your eyes, somehow the entire moment seeming too painful. The ache in your chest tightens, a wish on your lips that times like these would stretch on far into eternity where there are no boundaries between either's souls.

"Ayato why-"

His lips crush yours, silencing the words almost desperately with the intensity behind it. The usual pressure under his touch is replaced by a desire, a silent whisper that tries to get through but Ayato will never say it. He yanks your legs up, slipping jeans off fluidly and with more care than ever displayed before. Sitting up slightly in surprised alarm, Ayato's hand firmly presses against your stomach, flattening you back down. An open-mouthed kiss quiets your nervous mind, his fingers digging around in hasty motions. It occurs to you that Ayato is inexperienced when it comes to giving you pleasure, but his attempts kindle up harsh emotion. Suddenly it's hard to breathe, the air comes in tight gasps, face burning from the strain. Against the very morality of what could ever make you, sobs begin to choke themselves out, thick tears pushing down your face. Ayato draws back slightly, allowing your hands to come up and press against your eyes.

"Please don't, please. Don't go. Don't leave..."

Ayato is deathly still and it only crushes what little thin strips of air you've managed to keep siphoning from your chest. All of the carbon dioxide packs itself in, hot and threatening, enough to make you feel as if everything might burst. Nitrogen bubbles lift in your veins, head light with denial and grief. It is a terror to think about the world outside this small space you've grown accustomed to. Monsters prowl the streets, some hiding within human masks but here, there is always Ayato to return to. Flinging down your hands and surging up towards Ayato, you grasp his face and kiss him openly. Everything you wish to convey to him is in a single bittersweet touch that only briefly mingles both's lips. Pulling back slightly, Ayato only breathes heavily, the best answer you'll ever get. Smoothing a hand against his cheek, skinny tears shake themselves from the corners of your eyes, but a smile breaks your face. Those confused, grey eyes study your wet ones, but face never wavers even when faced with your gratitude.

Suddenly he surges over your body, trying to erase the look that fills him with so much guilt. You hope he feels guilty. Hope never had any place here, but when his hands pause over your breasts briefly, whether in awe or uncertainty, it begins to rot inside of your chest. Crying has never had any place here, but what else is this fervent emotion that scratches down your throat, trying to claw its way from your lips? Trembling lips, that stagger between moans and sobs. Skinny tears fall like rain inside, the memories of a short lived life within these walls paneling through your mind.

You shouldn't love him, but you do.

Love never followed any rules, and its temperament was ridiculously alike to Ayato's. Stroking down the back of his neck and into his hairline, his open mouth sucks on the edges of your breasts. Such a sallow feeling nestles itself around the binds of your ribcage. For the first time, Ayato moves away not to rush erotic desire onto you, but to bring it forth from inside. His head dips between your thighs, and once more the memory of how a respitory system functions fails to remind. Pushing him closer, your hips grind against his face, through the wet fabric of underwear. Thoughts blur into one white canvas, unblemished by emotion. It is a bittersweet momentum of reaching a climax given to you with care.

It is breaking you. The tears cease their streaming but that doesn't stop the flow of utter heartbreak wrenching its way through the charred wasteland leftover from the havoc of Ayato's treatment. His lips kiss between your legs, and the cries in the air mourn just as much as they serve to express desire. The moonlight streaming in through the doorway is muted before the clouds shift, the glow waning across Ayato's hair, dripping from the tips of his black hair. For a moment, Ayato's dusty eyes meet yours, and the amount of clear cut emotion within them floods you. Gasping aloud, the moonlight echoes the bare form of your body leaning forward to greet another, their shadows becoming mixed on the wood floor.

Cupping the length of his jaw, there is no raw desire or lust, just the twinge of pain that follows every parting lovers' kiss. Counting the tears collected over the time spent together, or perhaps even the long nights seems so trivial, utterly useless in this situation when you'd rather just remember how he whispered one name with all the care he was capable of. There's no certainty that Ayato has the same feelings overwhelming him as you do, but it's not pain that is driving him to be this sincere. The walls of salvation crumble like his discarded shirt to the floor, they bend and collapse with the sound of a weak mattress, and you cling to him like a last breath.

 

Harsh, grating noises scare your body into consciousness, the bed empty and cold. Ayato is gone, and has been for a while. The prophecy is here, but the calamity is all the more devastating not that it is upon you. For a moment, the noise fades into the background, only the mussed sheets and empty space where his body should be running through your mind as a broken video player. A trembling hand curls into where Ayato's ghost might still lay, hope falling to its knees, praying through the tears it can barely breathe through that heartbreak won't hurt so bad.

But it does.

The door of the apartment slams open, a reflexive dose of fear paralyzing your body. No clothing to be found, simply the sheets swaddled and tossed around from previous events. It's not Ayato's footsteps thundering on the wood floor, and it is not his figure kicking in the door. Numb and terrified, your vision never wavers from the people pouring in, quickly taking notice of the still figure sitting in the bed.

"Surrender ghoul!"

Weapons are pointed in hostility, but in this small room which had become your world, the idea of civilization had withered away. A sob breaks past your lips, hands flying up to cover a face in darkness. What happens now, to the captive finally unearthed from hell? To where are they to go, without home nor family?

"Squad Captain, I think that's a human."

Murmurs ripple throughout the room, but fresh aching sobs of relief are the only answer they receive.

"What's your name?"

Someone is close to the bedside, and your whole body wilts into them, suddenly unable to hold itself up any longer. Maybe another ghoul is waiting to kill the whole squadron, and then snuff out your life. Strong arms unwrap you from the tangles of the bed, breaking the last of chains Ayato had so painstakingly placed.

"To think, a ghoul would have enough sentiment to keep a human around."

"I don't think it's sentiment. I think it's warped affection."

"Even worse, what if she was their pet?"

"I don't even want to think about it."

The door is forced to bow in front of the squadron exiting the apartment, its creaks and groans no longer able to alert its master. Stepping out into different air sends electric shocks of panic that contort and cause your chest muscles to convulse. Certainly this is a game. Ayato will slaughter every person here, dragging your traumatized body back into the room where his burning touch on every inch of skin is a searing reminder to whom this body belongs.

"We uncovered a human in the Aogiri hideout - Over."

Static crackles, and then, a female voice.

"Bring her outside. We have an ambulance waiting - Over."

The air never smelled so sweet, and for the first time your hands lower slightly, eyes lifting to the sky above. Once again, the stars are shining brightly, a warmth to the air that comes with the changing seasons. Summer hums with the cicadas, oblivious to the carnage that reaps within the abandoned building. Surrounding the escorting squadron are swarms of people- humans. But the tears slipping off already damp cheeks are not joyous.

So this is salvation: Every emotion has come back to haunt you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay just because I basically have more than half the next chapter written doesn't mean I can guarantee it because I am, and totally guilty of, a lazy writer who likes to fiddle with words and not really write sentences. While this story isn't technically on hiatus, I'm only able to write when I have the inspiration and time.


	16. Interim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And.. it's been over a year! Truthfully, I have received nothing but support for this story despite my original intentions to kind of let it taper off into miscellaneous works of the fandom. Because everyone has filled my inbox with questions of updates- I have been trying to work back on it! There's a particularly long chapter that's taking a bit of time but hopefully I finish it!

The nightmares are vivid enough to paralyze you in your steps. Sometimes you are just walking to the bathroom. It doesn't matter because in the end you are on the floor and he has won once again.

Suffocation, frustration, they all revolve around those haunting eyes that close in on you as your vision fades black. There is no warning, just the chill of his presence. Such a minuscule indication fails to allow you any time to prepare. Then, there is only the course you are forced to partake in. It is a sick carousel ride you must endure, spinning until you lie in a pile of your own vomit.

_Maybe these memories are following a pattern?_

Patterns, more like mazes, they swirl around and whichever one snags you first is the one that holds you until the end. This is exhausting, fighting your mind every step of the way, dragging your body down the right course of action. Relief comes in the form of the torturer.

Plaster is underneath your nails, a thin coating of drywall dust imprinted on your fingerprint. You shake violently, stomach still riding your carousel of hell. You tighten your grip on the wall, feeling more of it crumble off and onto the floor. You pitch forward, dry heaving twisting its way up and squeezing the energy out of you. It retracts back into its pit of inky blackness located below your heart.

Heaves are still awash as you clutch your chest. It hurts, you can't breathe but your heart beats as if it was outracing death. The pain resounds about your chest, pinching the muscles together. Your body slides down the wall and onto its side with a heavy thump. The blood in your ears drowns out your body's cry for air.

"A-Ayato".

Sweat slides down your temple despite the deeply rooted chill permeating your bones. His name is a comfort, loosening the muscles, if only briefly. Then all at once, it releases you, liquid spilling up your throat and out your mouth. Acid water splatters onto the floor, chest burning as if you have been branded.

There is nothing worse than underneath the physical exterior of stress than the lack of any emotional response. Inside is a pit of emotional despair, reminding you that he is not returning tonight or any night. Ayato is far out of your reach, leaving you with nothing but ashes of your security.

_Do you sympathize with him?_

Tears drip off your eyes onto the floor. With every drop, the flames inside you increase. A gift from Ayato, scorched down to your essence and burned away, a frozen reminder of who you used to be. He has imprinted his sadistic laugh, hot embrace, piercing eyes. You are an addict to the fear he injected with his presence. Forever a slave to the wild and untamed.

A scream pierces the air, fingers burying themselves into your hair. There is no sympathy, no emotional anything in you. Ayato has eaten your emotions down to their very source, planting seeds of apathy in their place. Nothing is left besides the hole he filled with his own form of euphoria.

There was supposed to be something. Is this called heartache? Were you bleeding out for some carnal animal which imprisoned you? The scars never left much of an imprint did they? It is no longer a wonder as to why Ayato was never satisfied. There is so much left to ruin inside of you. This terrible ability to question and resist, it had to be conquered. Having a mindset that you could accept your own jailer, it is a sickness.

Ice churns down your veins like runny slush. Slowly sifting its way down the channels that feed your only source of life, your heartbeat refuses to slow. Die, just die. Why won't your heart stop? It brought this onto itself, but here it is, refusing to grow cold. Is this supposed to be the reason you need to survive? You have your reason. It certainly is not your source of betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all seriousness, for everyone who has taken the time to read, comment, and like this story, it means so much. I couldn't find the right words to express how much it means, as a writer, to see such affection for something they've given up on. Thank you.


	17. Maleficent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware of the short time between posting chapters, but this is about the last section I have planned left for what was following a bit of storyline. From here on out, things will probably be scattered.

The silence in the small room is defeaning, only interrupted by the pen scribbling on the paper. It is impossible to stay still, hysteria packed in your chest, prepared for the moment Ayato kicks in the door. No matter the mental urges to remain still, your position relentlessly changes in the small metal chair. The man flicks his eyes up before placing the pen down. Another question, another answer drug up from the depths of an old battlefield. No matter what you say now, the truth has been seen, no matter how short of a glimpse, and they will never let you go.

_"That's where you're wrong- your grandmother **is** alive."_

The sole guardian left in your life has been reduced to a wheelchair, but the tears streaming from her eyes crush the hasty defenses you've thrown up in desperation. Hugging her melts your body at the knees, sinking down into the miserable creation Ayato has made you. There is but one reassurance, and he did not kill her. All those tactics to force submission were built on the foundation of a lie. The woman sobbing into your shoulder is not a corpse, or any kind of bloody monstrosity he would painstakingly detail. A human, living and breathing, cups your cheeks with the relief only someone with love could do. No matter her words, one whisper manages to scale the rest, muttering to itself, "What else did he lie about?"

_"CCG doesn't believe the possible suspects for your kidnapping are in the area anymore. We've mostly cleared out the rats back into the sewers. Congrats kid; welcome home."_

The sheets are clean, unused, and smell just like home. A distant memory of the past wraps itself around the curled body, swaddling it in painful dreams. The night terrors are persistant, an always present paranoia driving you back into hiding. Ayato must be waiting, it has to be another scheme. This time he's determined to break any sort of defiance against him. The thoughts pile on, reducing you to nothing but a lump underneath old sheets, in an old bed you thought would never exist again. Darkness coats the room, an unfamiliar sight, a different setting that what you've grown used to for what has seemed like years. Downstairs, the sound of the television floats up, slipping underneath the closed door, where you couldn't bear to keep it open for fear of Ayato walking straight through- it would've been too much like a welcome.

One deep breath, and it gets stuck, lodged between two lungs and a heart that won't stop pounding in terror. Sleep has only come after exhaustion relieves a paranoid mind from its bindings that being unguarded is waiting for Ayato to rip you back. A persistent question begs to ask, is this what you really wanted? Of course, the answer is yes. Should be yes. Has to be yes. What if it isn't yes? Laughter comes from the television downstairs, cold chills appearing with goosebumps on tightly covered skin. Eyes tightly shut, the countdown starts, one breath through the nose, out the mouth. Repeating over are the words, _if he hasn't come by now, he never will_. A false mantra, the only words left to be said that offer comfort which doesn't come from physical pleasure.

_The lady speaks slowly, staring at a distant point on the floor, body unmoving as she relives some of her own most horrific moments._

_"I told him to stop, but he just ignored me. When I started crying, he seem surprised- as if he didn't think I was serious- but then... he continued. He saw me crying and begging him, but continued anyways. No regard for me, for my body, just using me like I was some kind of object."_

_All the color has longed drained from your head, leaving behind a sensation of floating and distant experience. It sits like a rain shower that sluggishly moves throughout the complicated mess of intestines that feel more like spaghetti noodles than anything useful to survival. Knotting and unknotting itself is the stomach right above, which sometimes threatens to vomit bile before thinking twice and allowing the nervous acid to burn holes in its lining._

_"Thank you. I know that was hard to share. Does anyone have anything to share or comment on?"_

_Nervously, the once broken wrist which never healed properly bends back and forth, popping back and forth almost painfully, sharing its own memory. Another girl chooses to speak of her experience, and you're sucked back into the past._

_Everything hurts, and Ayato is being distracting by any means possible to prevent further resistance from his new possession. It works, regretfully so, the dazed and pained look the only sort of reaction he is receiving. He releases them ungratefully, allowing their exhausted body to slump against the tree trunk, clothes torn and innocence mutilated. Already, the swollen wrist stretches the skin surrounding their limp wrist to a bloated point, but they don't make any attempt to move, even when he picks it up rudely._

* * *

"Where are you going?"

The voice is so sudden and abrupt a reflexive response escapes before you realize what the actual question is besides the fact that: you are leaving without Ayato's permission. But upon turning it comes back to you that this is not the small dark area Ayato would confine you into, this is the house of your childhood. The speaker is none other than your grandmother, sitting contentedly in her wheelchair with a pensive and worried expression on her face. It takes a moment for you to remember that there is no need to sneak through the house for any small thing, including when you are trying to leave. That is, at least what you would remind yourself, if your reasons were not unhealthy and life-threatening.

"I'm sor- oh, sorry I was going out for a little".

The lie slips between your teeth with a hard weight of guilt settling on afterwards. But your grandmother is not Ayato, and as such, she will not believe you would lie to her. Not after what he has done. From the small bit gleaned out of you before completely shutting down, the brief glimpse of the damage done was extensive. His far reaches were physical and psychologically rooted, the effects shown through the lies you weaved on random trips to which you were "going out". And what was your grandmother to assume? That your outings were to see the ghoul who broke you into small pieces of your former self? For a moment, your pleasant expression wavers, the horror at being unable to recognize yourself becoming nearly unbearable. Adding onto it, the smile you receive from your grandmother is relieved and pleasant albeit strained with worry.

"Take your phone then."

A smile of affirmation, the lie so delicate that for a moment you question it yourself. There is no phone on your person, it would be too risky, too easy to track. What would their expressions be when they found you in his grasp? How much despair would that place onto your grandmother? The thought is squashed with the resonating of the closing door. That is not the point, you are not trying to hurt anyone, you're trying to save them. Ayato's threats are enough to make you skitter in his direction whenever he wishes. He always follows through, and it is but that fatal flaw of his that leads Ayato right back to you.  
Goosebumps bring cold shivers despite the August heat. There should be no chill in the air with the sun still high in the sky at three in the evening, but even so it is an unconscious thought to avoid the shaded spots. No one notices the wandering figure seemingly distraught with their own purposeful walk, and somehow that brings fatigued relief. This area is slowly becoming familiar, the occasional noise down the alleyways of scuffling persons or animals, graffiti scrawled along garage doors in gaudy colors, but lastly the atmosphere of staring eyes that know of your intents and have no qualms judging you for it. It grows heavy, thick fingers dragging at your footsteps, whispering the tiny thoughts that will not disappear.

Then there is the building. This is when the shaking begins. At first, there was the dead certainty that this building was the same one Ayato would never let you leave, and that the alleyway just across the street was the exact reminder you needed to have solid proof this was where Ayato kept you. But it wasn't. Ayato had whisked you off to another ward, and this building was different once fear stopped manipulating your judgement. A deep breath in, and then a brisk stride across the street. More shivers, your arms wrapped around yourself as a shield from the non-existent cold. Why could you not refuse his requests? What was so possibly terrible that he could do anymore?

The thought was immediately extinguished with the fresh chills of terror. Suddenly the world was blanketed in black and the sheets wrapped around your body were suffocating. Ayato's presence was above you although there was nothing but that unwavering mass of black swathing everything. Those words that brought nothing but despair and panic were the same ones convincing you that ghoul infested neighborhoods were preferable to Ayato's spun reality if you did not comply. The preference for this reality wraps your shaking hands around the rusted iron gate barring the side entrance. Heaving it open with the unnecessary energy provided by stressed nerves, it heaved out a loud groan that had you scanning your surroundings. Taking a deep breath, the first step inside is the beginning of hard trials, the dark hallway providing an arsenal of what could possibly be lurking inside.

Soon the dark hallway enveloped the light, and then there was nothing but the sound of your footsteps and an increasing musty scent. In some places, the carpet would squish with what was hoped to be water, but your mind was too stressed to focus on what was leaking in the building. This upcoming moment was the hardest for you, for Ayato would pop out of somewhere, completely silent and grab hold of you. Trying to stay calm was holding a match for too long and once the flame began burning your fingers, trying to not toss it down. It was excruciatingly hard not to simply drop down to the floor, nothing but a mess of terrified sobs and hard breathing. Squeezing further into yourself, the quiet of the building stretched on to where the rushing of your blood was audible. If terror did not claim your bones as its own, perhaps you would've screamed to drown out the rushing static.

From the darkness came a rushing mass, too fast for you to react. A startled sob in the form of a scream pierced the air, both hands rushing up to cover your face. A strong grip hauled your dropping body back up and into the wall. The force jolted the shielding hands from your face, and in that moment another pair of lips met your own sloppily. Soon it didn't matter as the anxiety towards the situation as a whole evaporated underneath the heat of the kiss. There was a slight hurt, lips stinging as they were pressed back into the teeth lining underneath, but it was so hard to focus when he was right in front of you. There was nowhere to run, Ayato's forearm above your head and the other trailing up your side. A sigh lifts in the air when Ayato draws his lips away, taking the bittersweet edge off of his actions. Briefly something screams out in your mind, demanding to know what is happening, but it is quelled under calm waves of yearning. Ayato immediately grew aggressive, voice dark and possessive.

"You were late".

Blinking, the shadows of anxiety from earlier bury their claws back into your body. Once again, it is a struggle to stay afloat, and in this familiar mold does a sense of contentment settle. Underneath it all is a frustration that he has waited two days call you out here, two days without anything, and all of the depravity of those two days has come back with a vengeance. Therefore you do not answer for fear of what might be said, knowing that some words will have more of an impact than on Ayato than what you might wish. Ayato doesn't wait for a reply, pulling in your submissive body closer to his own. Was he always this warm? His skin is hot to the touch, fevered, and the concern does not get voiced. Ayato releases you altogether, and through barely visible vision he turns. Out of simple reflex, a hand reaches out to grasp the edge of his jacket.

Ayato does not growl at the unnecessary contact, but chooses to what appears to be him ignoring it. The apparent kindness catches you off guard, but glee maintains the trot behind his brisk pace. After what seems to be the end of the hallway, the dark atmosphere lightens into grey shadows, and Ayato becomes clearer. Squinting slightly, it is possible to make out where Ayato might be leading you, but the light is not strong enough to do much more than define general shapes. Ayato stops, body leaning in to the left, your own body stumbling into him and then quickly backpedaling. There is no retort, no angry looks, and it is as relieving as it makes you crestfallen. There is a creak followed with a bang and a door opens from the left wall. Light streams into the hallway, a crisped and golden light streaming lazy banners onto the floor. In this light, Ayato seems to be maturing during the times you do not spend with him. It brings with it a sting of hurt and longing, but Ayato moves and takes your thoughts with him. Inside the room is completely bare and empty just as it was from last time Ayato brought you here. The two mattresses piled on top of each other in the corner are bathed in the golden light from the window. Now that you are here does nervousness dig up apprehension to the upcoming situation. It soon becomes a question if you want to do this, if you are in some way ready. Then again, how could it even be a question if you followed Ayato back into this room? Ayato steps to the side, impatience in his movements as he waits for you to shuffle into the room, past the threshold and allowing him to feast on you once more.

The door shuts with a final click, and then Ayato has the freedom to do as he wishes. Grabbing your shirtfront, Ayato half drags along with your staggering, you over to the makeshift bed. The movement is so normal and surprising that it is easy to fall into the role of waiting for him to do things at his pace, but startling enough to cause your lax body to go rigid. Spinning you around to face him, Ayato doesn't wait, too starved in the two days that have passed. Cramming one hand down the collar of the shirt, Ayato dips the other one down the shorts still fastened to you. The surprised gasp is out before you can reprimand it, and then Ayato is pushing you down. Falling back with the tingles that are but one step from uncomfortable, Ayato hardly pulls the shorts completely off of you. They grow tangled in your trapped legs underneath where Ayato has mounted onto you, and in the end, you have to kick them off of your ankles.

Ayato skims his hands up your sides, catching and taking your shirt up with it. There can be no fuss, and as such Ayato shoves everything up over the mounds of your breasts and leaves it there. A thought dryly remarks that if Ayato were not so attractive and dead serious at times, he could be mistaken as a child for how finicky he chooses to be. Inhaling a shaky breath, there is the nerve-wracking moment of simply waiting for him to shred his own pants from his skin. The moment cuts off abruptly as Ayato lifts up your hips and rotates them. Forced to turn onto your hands and knees, the idea of what he might be up to comes a second too late. The thrust is dry and it stings, but the shivers of pleasure are strong.

The mattress creaks with Ayato's strong push to the back of your body, and it quickly becomes a struggle to hold yourself up. Your head dips to the top of the mattress, forearms and shoulders wanting to be released from their clenched position. Ayato breathes hard, one arm planted by your ribs and the other holding the side of your hip. The sound of slippery skin wears the little bits of consciousness left into a complete stupor. Open mouthed moans escape into the mattress, hot air being repeatedly breathed in and out. Ayato doesn't slow, being rough and ignorant of you. Only when the cramped craving cries out in a whimper does his hand decide to shift about your body.

A strangled moan followed by other shorter ones is not entirely muffled by the mattress while Ayato's fingers dig around in depraved flesh. A shiver licks down the length of your spine, spurring on something that can only be described as delicious. Ayato remembers what gets you to melt into a puddle long enough for him to do as he pleases, and never has any qualms about doing it near every time. Instinctively, your body tries to close up on itself, the pleasure mounting slowly but with enough power to trigger changes in pitch. Ayato leans forward, pressing your hips against the mattress. Raised up from your forearms to clenched fists, Ayato continues grinding with the same vigorous pace, producing a squeak from the springs.

"Do what you always do".

"B-but..."

It is the first thing Ayato says since entering the room with you, but it is quickly passed off underneath the various layers of lust. Embarrassment proves to be a blockade between what Ayato wants to hear out of you, and the execution of the action. It presses a hand to your mouth and refuses to budge even when your whimpers become stronger and increasing in frequency. The wandering statement that was feebly handed out to Ayato will be, in no way, good enough for him. Ayato will not tolerate protests, and as invigorating these sessions are with him, they are seemingly conditioning you. Ayato pulls out sharply, waiting for your next move and leaving you gasping into the bare mattress.

"Beg for it".

The whisper is hot air on your right ear and the pleasure rolls into the tips of your tingling breasts. Ayato's abstinence drives you to the edge forcing you to comply with his whims. The fire in your abdomen numbs the edges of proper judgement, erasing the memories of trauma, of betrayal, of guilt. Self-consciousness fades, mouth opening, drowning in the idea of how good the sensation of giving in to wicked impulses feels.

"Please, please, _please_ , fuck me Ayato."

Ayato smooths a hand along your side, pinching the skin at the bottom of your hip. He's dissatisfied and you'd like to dissolve into tears. Now, you'll have to fight to find climax, pleasing him in a roundabout way of getting what you want.

"Try harder."

In retaliation, the retort bites hard on your tongue, refusing to let up. The words of submission halt in their path, suffocating you. Desperately, a nagging voice screams against rationality. _Give in, everything feels better when you give in. Don't think, just **do**_. It's correct, so brutally right and true to your actual feelings. Truthfully, you want to give in. You want to ignore the life you once had. To be with Ayato like this, before being rescued, it's so much more appealing. With how he is now, the idea of coexisting becomes possible.

"Do you want me to suck you off? I will. Cum inside, I'll clean it up right, so _please-_ "

Ayato's close enough you can feel the shudder that runs through his body. They were the right words, and thank god because you couldn't even catch your breath at this point. Lust had overridden every system in your body, shutting them down individually.

"Good.", Ayato responds, smoothing a hand along your back. Roughly, your hips are smashed against his, the sensation of him slipping back in without resistance, your arms give out. Head buried into the mattress, you're desperately trying to hold onto consciousness without drowning into the black sea of arousal. It's too hard, too much. You're trying not to feel, wanting the moment to last a bit longer, but it dissolves around you. Moaning into the mattress, you're too busy spasming under Ayato to feel him cum inside, his groans in your ear plunging you further into your pleasure. Ayato pulls out suddenly, ripping a groan from both's chests, speaking in a weathered, hoarse voice.

"Now do what you promised."

How your legs can move when they feel absolutely numb, washed out by the endorphins, is beyond you, but if the promise you've foolishly made isn't fulfilled, you will have more than immovable legs. Dragging yourself along the bed to collapse in his lap, Ayato is still winded enough to permit your kittenish lapping along his sticky shaft. Gratefully, you're given a moment to catch your breath before delving the length of him into your mouth, swirling it around to clean it off. Ayato massages your head, sighing and occasionally shifting at the overstimulation he's receiving.

The moment is over too soon. Your head is pulling back and then Ayato is pulling up his pants. You realize, you don't want to return. Staying here with him, wrapped in his embrace as you both fall into a hot, heady sleep, it's so much more desirable than the cold room waiting for you.

"Ayato", you whimper.

His eyes lock onto you nearly immediately, holding steady before traveling to study your body language.

"Please, just stay."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you can detect a subtle indecisiveness within himself before Ayato turns sharply, yanking the door open. He pauses as if to say something, anticipation crumbling in your chest, stepping out and shutting the door behind him. Flinching, pain throbs in response, wishing that you could not feel at all. It's a slow ritual, pulling clothes back on, knowing that another pair of underwear will have to be buried in the laundry you do yourself for the sake of secrecy. Navigating your way out of the building is beyond nerve-wracking, coming across many dead-ends, collapsed hallways, and locked doors. The exit provides no relief, night having fallen, and without the promise of Ayato nearby, too real is the fear of becoming captive again.

You've become utterly dependent upon a ghoul. The words are shocking, almost lies thrown in your face, but a part of you knows. More terrifyingly, you aren't sure if you can even change it yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additionally, I am not sure when the next update will be. I currently have some muse, so fingers crossed for continuation!


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